Monkeys Amok
by Jezrianna2.0
Summary: [Complete]Kim and Ron head to Smallville, Kansas, where they run into Monkey Fist (which they expect) and Supergirl (which is a complete surprise).  Rated 'R' for language, violence, sexual references and sexual situations.
1. Monkey Fist in the Midwest

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

This story takes place two years after the events of 'Kim and Kara'.

Kim Possible was rummaging in her locker for her Advanced Chemistry textbook when her best friend, Ron Stoppable, sauntered by.

"Hey Ron!" she called out, waving. Ron grinned widely, "'S'up Kim?" he asked.

"I hear you're dating Amanda Barnsworth," Kim said, a wicked smile on her face.

"Among others," Ron confirmed, smiling back. "Maybe others," Kim smirked,

"But Amanda's giving you some sugar, or so I've heard."

Ron blushed. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," he proclaimed solemnly.

Kim chortled. "You mean a gentleman doesn't fuck and tell," she grinned, as Ron's blush deepened.

"Kim, please!" he protested.

"Ron, it isn't a big secret. Amanda's telling everyone." Kim grinned again. "She says you're pretty good in the sack, too," she added archly, giggling as Ron turned an alarming shade of crimson. Ron started to stammer a reply, but was interrupted (and rescued) by a familiar beeping. Kim pulled out her Kimmunicator. "What's the sitch, Wade?"

"Trouble in the midwest," Wade answered. "Got a hit on the site from a Paul Lee Gordon, chief of police in Smallville, Kansas. Seems there've been some strange goings on there lately."

"What kind of 'goings on'?" Kim asked.

"Break ins, trespassing, unexplained digging, that sort of stuff."

"Sounds pretty low key, Wade. Why does Gordon want us?" Kim demanded.

"Couple of reasons. First, there's more going than what I told you. Gordon wouldn't say what, but he hinted that people are being affected by something nasty. Second, because some of the incidents had footprints associated with them," Wade declared. "The locals couldn't make much out of them, but one report says, 'The prints have many human characteristics, but more closely resemble the great apes than man.'"

"Apes, monkeys," Ron rasped.

"Monkey Fist," Kim scowled. "We'll need a ride Wade."

"A GJ Hercules transport will meet you at Middleton Airport in one hour."

* * *

"Smallville, founded 1846 by Ezra Small," Ron recited as the C-130 roared east. "Population: 9898, as of the census of 2000. Largest employer is Luthorcorp Fertilizer Plant. Town and surrounding area struck by a massive meteor shower in 1968, afterwards known as the 'Meteor Capital of the World'.

"Anything else?" Kim asked.

"Well," Ron elaborated, "There were some strange events in the early eighties, mutants and such. All linked to meteor rocks, which later turned out to be-" Kim cut him off. "Kryptonite," she said.

"Exactly," Ron nodded.

"Maybe Monkey Fist wants to get his hands on some kryptonite," Kim mused.

"But why?" Ron wondered. "Superman isn't exactly on his list of arch foes."

"No," Kim agreed, "But he may have another use for it."

"Such as..?" Ron prodded.

"Its mutagenic effects," Kim answered.

"Which he'll use to make himself more monkeylike!" Ron exclaimed. Then he shuddered. "Oooh, monkeys..."

"I thought you were over the monkey thing," Kim said.

Ron sat straight up and grinned. "I am," he said brightly, "Except where Monkey Fist and his monkey ninjas are concerned."

"Speaking of monkeys," Ron said after a short pause, "How are things with you and Josh? You haven't mentioned him all week, which isn't like you."

Kim's expression darkened. "Josh is history," she said coldly. "What happened?" Ron asked, shocked. "He was dating other girls behind my back," Kim supplied.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ron said sympathetically.

Kim glanced up at him and quirked an eyebrow. "I thought you didn't like Josh," she said.

"And I don't," Ron said emphatically. "It's just that he stuck it out so long I thought I'd misjudged him." He crossed the passenger compartment, sat down next to Kim, and put his arm around her shoulders. "You going to be ok then?" he asked gently.

Kim smiled and leaned against him. "Yeah," she said. "I got the crying out of my system over the weekend."

They sat like that a long while, Kim snuggled against Ron's chest, Ron staring into the distance, a contented smile on his face. "Still," Kim mused eventually, "I wonder if I'd put out for him if we'd still be together."

Ron looked down at her, his expression a cross between amazement and curiosity. "You're still a virgin?" he asked incredulously.

"Yeah," Kim shot back defensively.

"Whoa." Ron gestured, "Nothing wrong with that, I just didn't know. I mean I guess I assumed, you know, after that weekend thing..."

Kim grinned. "I can understand that," she chuckled. "We had the opportunity, and he definitely wanted to. Heck, I wanted to too." She sighed. "But I promised myself I'd stay a virgin 'til my wedding night, so we didn't."

"Well, if he wouldn't wait, he wasn't the right guy for you," Ron proclaimed.

Kim smiled and returned to her snuggling. "Nice of you to say so," she said softly.

"I mean it," Ron affirmed. "I go out with Emily Prescott all the time, and she's saving herself for marriage. I respect that, and it doesn't make her any less fun to be with."

"True," Kim agreed, "But then, you're giving Amanda the bone," she giggled as Ron blushed again, "and you've never made any secret of the fact that you don't date exclusively."

"Well, there is that," Ron agreed.

"I should never have agreed to go steady with Josh," she sighed again, mournfully. "Think of all the boys I could have gone out with." She looked up at Ron again. "I think I'll take my cue from you. I'm gonna go out with every boy in Middleton High," she proclaimed imperiously.

"All two thousand of them?" Ron asked in a gently mocking tone.

"All two thousand," Kim confirmed.

"Even freshmen and nerds?"

"Even them," Kim nodded.

"Well, I admire your determination," Ron said, and Kim grinned, "but I don't think you can manage it, even with two hundred days of school left."

"I can sure try," Kim assured him.


	2. A Smallville Secret Revealed

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Kim watched as Ron eased the Team Possible van down the cargo ramp of the Global Justice C-130 and onto the tarmac of the Smallville Airport. He was watching her intently, as she signaled steering instructions to him. There wasn't much chance that he'd drive off the narrow ramp extensions that extended from the plane's lower cargo door to the ground, since they had fairly high edge flanges, but they could still damage the van's tires, and there was no point in risking that. When he was down and clear Kim jogged around the left wing, taking care to avoid the still running engines, until she made eye contact with the pilot. She gave him the thumbs up. He waved back, then revved the plane's engines and changed the propeller pitch from 'feather' to maximum. At least she assumed it was max, judging from the force of the wind the props started generating. The loadmaster had already secured the cargo door, Kim saw, and Ron was carefully keeping the van end on to the Hercules as it started to taxi. Kim waited until it was well away before she opened the passenger side door and climbed in. The van was a new toy, also courtesy of Global Justice, tricked out with so many extras that Ron still drooled when he thought of them. Kim smiled at the memory of Ron's first encounter with the van. A man who normally didn't read much, Ron had spent hours poring over the 'owners manual' as he'd termed it.

"What are you grinning about?" Ron teased, shaking Kim out of her reverie.

"Oh, nothing," she said. "Shall we?" she asked, waving in the general direction of the town.

"Certainly," Ron agreed, putting the van in gear.

The police station was in the heart of Smallville's downtown. Kim was a bit surprised at how vital the place was. Most of the small towns around Middleton were drying up, business-wise, unable to compete with the big city. 'Of course,' she thought, 'Smallville is the largest town for miles in any direction. Out here, it is the big city.' Which explained the Super Wal-Mart and the equally huge Mills Fleet Farm (what ever that was) they had passed on their way into town. But even with those mega-stores, the downtown shops and businesses appeared to be thriving.

"Nice town," Ron observed, looking around as they climbed out of the van. "Very nice," he added as a pretty girl in shorts and a halter top strolled by. Kim smiled and shook her head. "Focus on the mission, Ron," she chided, wagging a finger at him. "Yes ma'am," Ron replied meekly.

* * *

Chief Gordon proved to be a short, stout fellow in his mid-fifties with a permanent grin. It wasn't a very sincere grin, Kim decided, more for show than anything else. Gordon ogled her shamelessly as well, causing Ron to scowl a bit, but Kim soothed him with a light touch on his arm.

"I want to thank you for coming so quickly Ms. Possible," Gordon said after they shook hands and took seats. His skin was as oily as his voice, and Kim fought an urge to wipe her hand on her pants.

"It's our pleasure," Kim replied, forcing a smile and a pleasant tone of voice.

"Mine as well," Gordon said, his eyes dropping briefly, "Mine as well."

"Wade said you had more information for us?" Kim said, wanting to get the meeting over with as quickly as possible.

"It's not much," Gordon admitted. "I take it you're familiar with the events of the mid-eighties?"

"We know there were some incidents, people who acquired various super powers from long term exposure to kryptonite."

"Yes," Gordon confirmed, "And the 'incidents' kept happening until we figured out what was causing them and cleaned up as much of the Kryptonite as we could."

"I thought Superman and the Justice League did that," Ron broke in.

"They finished what we started," Gordon clarified. "Did a thorough job too. The mutations petered out after that, and we hadn't had any since then."

"Until recently," Kim deduced. Gordon nodded again. "We have at least one, maybe two. The one we're sure about is Jimmy Traskill. We found him in his pickup, frozen solid, the whole cab iced over with frost. I've kept the details as quiet as I can, not wanting to alarm people unnecessarily, but the autopsy showed high levels of kryptonite in his blood and tissues."

"Any idea how it got there?" Kim asked. Gordon shook his head. "I thought maybe from his drinking water, since he had a private well, but we checked that and it was clean."

"Is there any other way he could have been exposed?" Ron interjected.

"We went over every inch of his house and outbuildings with a fine toothed comb, even used a Geiger counter. Nothing."

"Well," Kim mused, "If it wasn't environmental, he must have been exposed deliberately."

"That's what I was thinking," Gordon agreed, "But why? Jimmy wouldn't have done it himself, least I don't think so, but if he didn't do it, then who did?"

"Monkey Fist," Kim and Ron said in unison.

"The weirdo Englishman?"

"That's right," Kim confirmed. "We think the tracks you found are his."

Gordon mulled that over. He was an odd fellow, Kim decided. An insincere lecherous pervert, but with a keen, insightful intellect and an apparent genuine interest in the welfare of his fellow citizens. "It makes sense," he said finally, which means I made the right decision when I called you in." The phony grin was back in force, and he leered at her. She smiled thinly. "You mentioned a second case?"

"Ah, yes," Gordon nodded. "We aren't sure about it. That is, we know the person was exposed to kryptonite, but we don't know if that's what caused the incident."

"What kind of incident?" Kim asked.

"House fire. Apparently started in her bed while she was asleep. The state Fire Marshall hasn't determined a cause yet, but we know it wasn't any of the most usual suspects, like smoking in bed or a malfunctioning electrical appliance."

"That does sound suspicious," Kim agreed. "I know you must be anxious to get this resolved, so we'll get started right away," she said, rising. "We'll just need to see what information you've collected so far."

"You'll need to go to the high school then," Gordon said mysteriously.

"The high school?" Kim asked.

"I couldn't have my regular officers investigate this," Gordon explained. "They'd talk, and I don't want that. So I brought in an expert on these sort of things. Her name's Chloe Sullivan, teaches journalism. She was into the mutations in a big way back in the eighties, when she ran the school newspaper. Had files on all of them. Still does, in fact. Knows how to keep her mouth shut too."

"Sounds like a good place to start," Kim agreed.

* * *

"Interesting fellow, that Chief Gordon," Kim opined as Ron drove the van down a broad, tree lined avenue. "I noticed he had trouble maintaining eye contact," Ron offered by way of reply.

"He wasn't very subtle was he?" Kim agreed, staring out the window at passing houses.

"Nope. Of course, you can't fault the man for looking."

Kim turned toward Ron, a quizzical look on her face.

"Face it K.P., you've got a great rack. Guys are gonna look." Kim blushed brightly and Ron chortled. She had made him blush enough today that he seemed to have decided that payback was in order. "Especially since they filled out," he added.

"I can't argue with you on that," she admitted, glancing down at her breasts. "I thought they'd be pointy forever."

"Anyway," Ron said, changing the subject. "Chloe Sullivan: I think I've heard of her."

" You should have," Kim said, "since we had to read one of her books for Government class."

"Oh yeah," Ron nodded, remembering. "Something about...ethics? Wasn't it?"

"'Ethics in Journalism: Case Studies'," Kim reminded him.

"Sweet!" Ron exclaimed. "I'm gonna meet a published author!"

Smallville High was mostly in an old building that dated back to the thirties, and it had a certain charm and atmosphere that Middleton High lacked. The walls of the main lobby were covered in photographs of prominent graduates, some dating back to the 1860's. In the section devoted to the class of 1986, Kim and Ron found five pictures, including one that was familiar. "Clark Kent," Kim read, touching the brass plaque beneath the frame. "Reporter for the Daily Planet, winner of two Pulitzer Prizes." She smiled. Clark Kent had interviewed her and Ron after a mission involving Duff Killigan in Metropolis last year. A nice man.

"Lana Lang," Ron read, "Fashion designer."

"I love her clothes," Kim confessed.

"Whitney Fordman, pro football player, quarterback for the Kansas City Chiefs, Superbowl champion," Ron went on. "Peter Ross, U.S. Congressman. Chloe Sullivan, reporter for the Metropolis (Kansas) Times, author."

"Quite an accomplishment for a class of 347 people, isn't it?" a female voice asked from behind them. They turned to find a blonde in her mid-thirties looking at them with an amused smile on her face. "I'm Chloe Sullivan," she introduced herself, extending her hand. "And you two must be Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable. Chief Gordon called and told me you were on your way."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Sullivan," Kim said, shaking her hand.

"Chloe, please," Ms. Sullivan implored. Kim smiled.

"All right, Chloe." Chloe grinned back. "Let's go up to my 'office' and I'll fill you in on what's been going on."

Chloe lead them to a classroom on the third floor. The room had the usual tables adorned with computers, and the walls were covered with reproductions of famous headlines. One wall, however, was plastered with more unusual items. Kim walked over and gazed at them. "The famous Wall of Weird," she said.

Chloe came up next to her. "Yup," she confirmed. "It's such a part of me that I take it everywhere. And it's a useful teaching tool as well."

"I thought you lived in Metropolis," Kim said, giving Chloe a questioning look. "I do, but I found out I have a soft spot for Smallville, so I come back for the fall semester to teach journalism." Chloe sat down at her desk and motioned for Kim and Ron to take seats.

"So," Kim began, "About these incidents..."

"I wouldn't call what happened to Jimmy Traskill an 'incident'," Chloe said darkly.

"What would you call it?" Kim asked.

"Murder," Chloe answered, her voice flat.

"Murder?"

"Yes."

"What makes you think that?"

"Jimmy had massive amounts of kryptonite in his system, consistent with years of constant exposure."

"But?" Kim pressed.

"Jimmy also had a comprehensive physical six months ago," Chloe said, "and he was clean then."

"How do you think it happened then?" Kim inquired.

"I think your friend Monkey Fist used Jimmy as a guinea pig, to see what Kryptonite would do to a person before he tried it on himself." Kim and Ron gaped. "How did you know Monkey Fist was involved?" Ron sputtered.

Chloe smiled. "I'm a reporter, remember? I saw the tracks myself, and I can put two and two together. Besides, we don't _know_ Monkey Fist is involved, we just suspect it."

Kim conceded the point, but said, "I'd be surprised if he wasn't though."

"I agree," Chloe said, "I'm just trying to maintain my journalist's objectivity."

"Well," Kim said, turning to Ron, "I guess we start looking for his lair. He must have one around here somewhere." Ron nodded.

"Any monkey themed places around here?" he asked. Chloe shook her head. "So much for it being easy," Ron groused. "How about abandoned warehouses, old factories, that sort of thing?"

"Chief Gordon told me to keep this to myself, and I have," Chloe said, "But I've made some discreet inquiries. So far I haven't found anything."

A bell rang. Chloe looked up at the clock on the wall. It was 2:20 p.m. "Sixth period just ended," she said. "I have a class in five minutes. Let's meet after school at the Talon: that's a coffee house on Second Avenue, you shouldn't have any trouble finding it. We can talk more there."

"Ok," Kim agreed. "What time?"

"How about four?" Chloe suggested. "I have a little after class paperwork to do, and that'll give me time to take care of it without rushing." The sounds students walking, talking and opening and closing lockers began rumbling through the halls. The classroom door opened and students began to stream in. Chloe walked Kim and Ron to the door. "We'll see you at four then," Kim said, and she and Ron turned to leave. And froze in their tracks. Standing right in front of them, looking just as stunned as they were, was a girl in cut-off jean shorts and a green tee-shirt, a book bag cradled in her arms. Her platinum blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she was wearing wire-rimmed glasses, but Kim felt a blaze of recognition surge through her.

"Kara!" she and Ron exclaimed as one.

"Ron? Kim? What are you two doing here?" Kara demanded, her voice high with shock. Before Kim or Ron could utter a sound Chloe jumped in. "Kara Kent," she scolded, and Kim thought she stressed the last name, "You never told me you knew Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable." Kara grinned weakly. "Well, uh, I," she floundered, "I, uh, don't really, Ms. Sullivan, I met them in, in Metropolis! Last year! When cousin Clark interviewed them," she finished in a rush.

Kim had no idea what was going on, but Kara was obviously working undercover here, and Kim had no intention of spilling any beans. "That's right," she agreed, "We met in Metropolis." She held out her hand. "Nice to see you again."

"Yeah," Ron echoed, following Kim's lead. Other students were gathering around, gawking at Kim and Ron and plying them and Kara with questions.

Chloe cut them off, going into full teacher mode. "That's enough of that," she said firmly. "Please take your seats," she said, addressing her students. "As for you two, I have a class to teach," and with that she bustled Kim and Ron out the door and shut it behind them.

* * *

They drove around town for a while, both to familiarize themselves with its layout and find the Talon. At a quarter after three Kim's Kimmunicator beeped.

"Change of plans," Chloe's voice announced. "We'll meet at 11547 Bluebird Avenue at 3:45, ok?" Since they had little choice, Kim agreed, and she and Ron went looking for the new location. They found it several miles out of town, a tidy looking farmstead. The mailbox bore the name Kent, and a sign by the driveway read 'Kent Farms. Organically grown meats and vegetables.' An older gentleman who was working on a tractor looked up when they turned into the lane, and strolled over to meet them.

"Howdy," he called as they got out of the van. "Can I help you folks?"

"Hello, sir," Kim smiled. "Sorry to disturb you but we're supposed to meet someone here." The man gave them a curious look. "Her name's Chloe Sullivan," Kim explained. "She gave us this address."

The man relaxed and smiled back. "Chloe's a good friend," he said. He held out his hand. "Jonathan Kent, pleased to meet you."

"Kim Possible," Kim said as they shook hands. "This is my friend Ron Stoppable."

"I've heard of both of you," Mr. Kent said, nodding. "Though why Chloe would send you here..." he mused thoughtfully. A car turned into the driveway, closely followed by a pick-up. Chloe got out of the car. Kara parked the truck, jumped out, and stalked over to Kim and Ron, looking a bit peeved, "Ok, spill," she demanded. "What are you two doing in Smallville? Chloe wouldn't tell me anything."

"What's going on Kara?" Mr. Kent asked, sounding worried. "It's all right Uncle Jonathan," she reassured him, "They know," she added, one finger tracing an 's' on her chest. "They do now, anyway," she went on, coldly. "Is that why you're here? To figure out my secret identity?"

"No!" Kim exclaimed. "I didn't even know you had one! We're here because..."

"They're here because of what happened to Jimmy Traskill," Chloe cut in. Kara blinked. "That man who's gone missing?" she asked. "He's not missing, he's dead," Chloe corrected. Kara and Mr. Kent looked shocked, and Chloe went on. "We," she said, indicating Ron and Kim, "think Monkey Fist gave him a megadose of Kryptonite to see what it would do to him."

"You're here on a mission?" Kara asked, incredulous. Kim and Ron nodded. "Boy, I feel stupid," Kara confessed. "Sorry about blowing up at you," she apologized, her face red with embarrassment. "I'm sometimes a little too protective of my secret."

"Apology accepted," Ron said with a magnanimous smile. Kim nodded. "Me too."

"Well I'm flummoxed," Mr. Kent said. "Why don't we go inside so you all can explain just what the heck is going on here."


	3. Plans and Deliberations

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

_Triaxx2: In Kim and Kara, Kara was introduced as_ Kara Zine_, without glasses and wearing her hair in the same style she does as Supergirl. In chapter two of this story she's dressed as _Kara Kent_. I never made that clear in K and K, and I didn't fix it because I wanted to re-post the original story. _

The living room of the Kent home had a pleasant, cozy feel to it. The furniture was relatively new, and the walls were papered with a currently stylish pattern. Only the hardwood floor, with its lacquer preserved wear marks, suggested that this was an old house. While Mr. Kent's wife, who he introduced as Martha, served iced tea and cookies to her unexpected guests, Kim perused the scores of photographs that covered the room's walls. They obviously covered a great span of years, and were arranged chronologically, from oldest to newest (or perhaps from newest to oldest, Kim thought with a slight grin, depending on your point of view). Her eyes settled on one of the oldest images, of a man and woman posing with a large group of children. The man was tall, with dark hair and piercing eyes. The woman, who looked to be part Indian, wore a stiffly formal expression, and the children's expressions ranged from solemn, to bored, through unhappy. 

Kim felt a presence behind her. "That's my great grandfather, Nathaniel Kent," Mr. Kent volunteered, "His wife Mary, and their children." He pointed to one of the boys. "That's my grandfather," he indicated.

"Cute kid," Kim said diplomatically. The boy in question looked thoroughly displeased with his circumstances. Mr. Kent chuckled. "Doesn't look too happy though, does he?" "Not really," Kim admitted. "Photography was still new enough then that having your picture made was a big event that called for dressing up in your best clothes," Mr. Kent explained. "Which no kid likes to do," Kim finished the thought, and Mr. Kent chuckled again. "Kara's right, you are a sharp one."

"Speaking of Kara," Kim said, looking across the room at the newer pictures, some of which featured a familiar platinum blonde, "It looks like she's been living here longer than I thought." Mr. Kent's voice and expression turned serious. "Kara's part of our family, Ms. Possible. Martha and I may say she's our niece, but we really think of her as a daughter."

Kim nodded gravely. "Don't worry Mr. Kent. Ron and I know how to keep secrets. Besides, Kara's our friend, and friend's look out for each other." Mr. Kent stared directly into Kim's eyes for a long moment, then nodded.

"Now," he said forcefully, turning toward the others, "How about that explanation of what's going on around here?"

Mr. Kent sat down in one of two well worn leather easy chairs that dominated one end of the living room like thrones. Mrs. Kent took a seat in the other one, while Kim sat next to Ron on a plush sofa that was entirely too comfortable. Kara and Chloe were ensconced in high backed chairs, Kara sitting cross-legged, while Chloe rummaged in a battered leather briefcase.

"Now Chloe, what's this all about?" Mr. Kent asked.

"You've heard of Monkey Fist haven't you Jonathan?" she asked. He nodded, and Chloe launched into a recapitulation of what she knew, When Chloe finished Kim filled in what little they knew that Chloe hadn't covered.

"Poor Jimmy," Mrs. Kent shook her head sadly. "His mother will be devastated."

"Given what happened to Sean, I'd say doubly devastated," Chloe concurred.

"Who's Sean?" Ron asked quizzically. Chloe answered. "Sean Kelvin was Jimmy's uncle, his mother's youngest brother. He was also a classmate of mine, and he was mutated by exposure to kryptonite. He killed six people by sucking the heat out of them - you know, freezing them to death."

"The same thing that happened to Jimmy," Kim nodded, understanding. "Sean's family weren't responsible for what he did, of course, but there are stigmas that go along with being related to a mass murderer," Chloe said quietly. "When word of what happened to Jimmy gets out it's going to reopen a bunch of old wounds."

After a short silence Ron spoke up. "What I'd like to know is where Monkey Fist got the kryptonite he used. I thought there wasn't any more around here."

"There shouldn't be any," Chloe admitted, "since the whole impact area has been searched thoroughly, at least twice. But it was twenty years between the meteor shower and the first systematic clean up efforts. Anyone could have carted off as much as they wanted before that."

"Well," Kim said, "When we find Monkey Fist we'll find out where he got his hands on kryptonite. And I think we'd better get busy looking, because I just had an unpleasant idea: Maybe Monkey Fist knew Jimmy Traskill was related to Sean Kelvin, and injected him with kryptonite for just that reason."

"If that's true," Kara said, speaking up for the first time since they'd come indoors, "Then anyone related to the original mutants could be in danger."

"It certainly narrows the list of potential victims," Chloe agreed grimly.

"Then we'll get started right away," Kim declared, rising to her feet. "I'll get you a list of mutants and start tracking the whereabouts of them and their surviving relatives, if any," Chloe said. "Good idea," Kim acceded. "I'll want to give Wade the list as well; it never hurts to have two brains working on a problem. Ron, you and I will go talk to the people who filed police reports in this case, and the check around town to see if anyone else has seen anything unusual. Kara, will you come with us?"

"Sure!" Kara exclaimed. Then she paused. "I have to do my chores first though."

"Your chores?" Ron inquired.

"Oh yeah," Kara answered. "Got to earn my allowance you know," she grinned.

"What kind of chores?" Ron asked. Kara began ticking off items on her fingers: "Water the cattle, check the gates in the fence around the pasture, feed the pigs and chickens, weed the vegetable gardens, that sort of thing."

Ron whistled. He had a cousin who lived on a farm, so he was familiar with farm chores. "That'll take an hour, at least," Ron exclaimed.

"That's about how long it usually takes," Kara confirmed. "But, if Uncle Jonathan lets me cheat a little..." Kara turned to Mr. Kent with a winsome smile.

Mr. Kent smiled tolerantly. "You cheat all the time Kara." She just grinned. "I mean _really_ cheat Uncle John." Mr. Kent sighed theatrically. "I suppose so."

"Sweet!" Kara exclaimed. "I'll be back in fifteen minutes."

While Kara went to do her chores Kim pulled out her Kimmunicator. "Hey Kim," Wade answered instantly.

"Hey Wade. Good news. Ron and I have made some local contacts." She held the Kimmunicator out to include Chloe in its camera's field of view. "This is Chloe Sullivan; Chloe, meet Wade, my tech guru and all around genius." Chloe and Wade exchanged greetings and Kim went on. "Wade, Chloe is going to be sending you a list of names. I want you to run down anything and everything you can find on them, and on members of their immediate families."

Wade nodded. "What am I looking for?"

"I don't know for sure Wade," Kim shrugged. "We think Monkey Fist may be interested in them as research subjects, but that's pure speculation."

Chloe spoke up. "I have files on a lot of the people in question, Wade, plus a bunch of background material you might find useful. I'll send you an email when I get home. Kim suggested you and I work on this together."

"Sounds good," Wade said, smiling. "I read your book on information sorting," he revealed, prompting a smile from Chloe. "Got some ideas from it that I incorporated into my own scanning software."

"You two will be a perfect match," Kim grinned. "Talk to you later Wade."

"I guess I'd better get going then," Chloe said, picking up her briefcase.

"Aren't you going to stay for dinner Chloe?" Mrs. Kent asked, poking her head out of the kitchen. Chloe looked at her watch. It was nearly five o'clock. "I don't want to impose," she started to say, but Mrs. Kent cut her off. "Nonsense," she scolded gently. "You know perfectly well you're welcome any time. Besides, this way I'll know you had at least one decent meal today," Mrs. Kent added, fixing Chloe with a firm look. Chloe relented with a grin. "Okay Martha, you twisted my arm. But I insist on helping."

"You and Ronald will be joining us too, won't you Kimberly?" Mrs. Kent asked. Kim started to decline, saw Mrs. Kent brace for another argument, and saw Chloe give her a nod.

"We'd be happy to, Mrs. Kent," she accepted. "Good," Mrs. Kent smiled. "I hope you're hungry," she added with a wink. Kim nodded. "I know Ron will be," she said under her breath.

Dinner turned out to have been well worth accepting. The food was simple, if only because Mrs. Kent hadn't been expecting guests, but there was plenty of it, and it was good. Mrs. Kent was clearly a better than average cook. Ron had expressed his appreciation of her talent by stuffing himself, which seemed to please Mrs. Kent. Afterward Kim gave Kara a hand with the dishes while Ron leaned on a counter in the kitchen and the three discussed their plans for the evening.

"We should hit the Talon first," Kara said as she carefully rinsed a plate and handed it to Kim for her to dry. "It's a popular hangout for high school kids, and more or less gossip central for the eighteen and under crowd. If anyone in our age range knows anything useful, we'll more than likely hear it there."

"Ok, the Talon first," Kim agreed. "Then what?"

"Well, I do have a favor to ask of you two while we're at the Talon," Kara said.

"Which would be?"

"After you two showed up at school today I knew I was in for the third degree, so I ducked out of there as fast as I could after final bell. I left a lot of unanswered questions behind me, and I'd like your help answering them. So what I want is for you and Ron to tell anyone who asks that I met you in Metropolis when my 'cousin'" Kara made quote gestures when she said the word cousin, "Clark interviewed you after the Killigan case."

Kim glanced at Ron, who nodded solemnly. "We can do that," she promised.

Ron had, Kim had noticed more than once, a tendency to show off in front of pretty girls. Kara was no exception, and as the three of walked the short distance to the Team Possible van, Ron gestured at the vehicle. "What do you think?"

"It's a nice ride," Kara answered, an amused and knowing smile lifting the corners of her mouth. "Bet you can't guess half the cool stuff it's tricked out with," Ron dared her.

Kara shot Kim a glance that said 'He's kidding, right?' Kim just rolled her eyes. Ron was her best friend and she loved him dearly, but even now there were times when his obliviousness boggled her imagination. "Well let's see," Kara said, resting her chin on her fist as she stared thoughtfully at the van. After a minute or so of study she turned to Ron and began ticking items off on her fingers. "Bullet resistant, run flat tires. Reinforced suspension. Kevlar armored body panels. Armored glass. Armored radiator, oil pan and drive train. Heavy duty transmission. On board mini-mainframe computer. Satellite communications system with high speed data link. Weapons locker with an assortment of small arms. Two full sets of standard infiltration equipment. Basic repair kit with spare parts and tools. And finally, a pedestal mounted weapons platform with automatic grenade launcher, 7.62mm drum fed mini-gun, and two Stinger surface to air missiles."

Ron goggled at her, and then, as Kim groaned and Kara began to giggle, he slapped his forehead. "Remind me to never play cards with you," he said, glowering. The frown didn't last long though, and soon he was chuckling too. "You want to drive K.P?" he asked. "I'll take the back," he added, opening the passenger side door for Kara.

As she got the van moving Kim glanced in the rear view mirror and saw Ron leaning back on the small jump seat that was the van's only other passenger accommodation. He was looking pleased with himself, grinning widely despite having made a fool of himself just moments ago. She saw him steal a glance at Kara, who was still chuckling, and flash of insight struck her.

'He did it deliberately!' she realized. 'He didn't forget she had x-ray vision. He did it so she could show off.' The thought was so amazing that Kim nearly missed the turn from the Kent's driveway onto the gravel road, for which Ron and Kara both razzed her a bit. She ignored the teasing to concentrate on her idea. 'Ron let Kara show off (even if it was at his expense) which made her feel happy.' That was certainly true, given the smile on Kara's lips. Kara looked back at Ron and her smile widened. 'And it endeared him to her,' Kim saw that clearly enough. 'I see where this is going,' Kim smiled knowingly. 'Ron wants to get in Kara's pants.' That wasn't an entirely fair characterization though. Ron wasn't a fuck 'em and forget 'em sort of guy. Kim knew that well enough, since most of the girls Ron had slept with in Middleton were friends of hers, and none of them felt used. 'Ron likes Kara, cares about her, AND wants to get some.' That was more like it.

Kim was feeling pleased with her analysis of the situation when a new thought intruded. 'Ron does the same thing to me,' she reflected. 'Is he angling to get in MY pants?' She shook her head. More likely, he did it just because he knew his antics made her laugh. Ron loved her, she knew, as much as she loved him. But it was a strictly Platonic love. The only wrinkle was, of course, that she was a girl and he was a boy. 'Or rather,' she corrected herself, 'I'm a woman and he's a man.' That allowed them to express their love for each other in ways that members of the same gender didn't usually indulge in. 'Like the plane ride out here,' she remembered fondly, thinking of the hour she had spent snuggled in his arms. 'If Josh had seen that he'd have gone ballistic,' she mused, smirking at the thought of her ex-boyfriend's reaction to the sight. An other thought occurred, 'But then, anyone who saw that would probably think we were an item.' Kim pushed that thought away. 'Sex can be a real pain,' she groused. 'It's like an enormous monkey wrench just waiting to thrown into the works of a good relationship.' With firm deliberation Kim drove all thoughts of sex from her mind and concentrated on the road leading into Smallville.


	4. Search and Score

****

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

The Talon had a pretty good crowd for an early Wednesday evening. At least that was Kara's opinion. Kim supposed there were fifty or sixty people, either in the Talon itself, or hanging out on the sidewalk outside. By the time Kim parked the Team Possible van and the three of them got out, most of the people who had been in the Talon had joined those loitering outside. The crowd began pelting Kara with questions, but she waved them into silence and said, "Let's go inside. Kim can explain everything to you then."

The interior of the Talon was a study in contrasts. The heart of the place was the first room they entered: the coffee bar itself with its scattering of small tables. Three main areas opened off the bar: an arcade, with a nice sample of the latest video games and a number of pool tables; a dance floor, mostly deserted at the moment; and an area of tables separated by curtain walls arranged to give each table a degree of privacy. A jukebox hooked in to the building's sound system provided background music in the form of a sugary pop dance tune.

As Kim and Ron followed Kara into the coffee bar with the crowd on their heels, Kara was greeted by the girl behind the bar.

"Kara Kent! It's about damn time you showed up! We're all about to burst with curiosity."

"Strange words to hear coming from the mouth of Susan 'I mind my own business' Ross," Kara retorted. The girl behind the counter chuckled.

"Okay, okay," she said, grinning, her ivory smile bright against her chocolate brown skin. "You win. But at least you can introduce me." Kara grinned back.

"That I can do. Susan, this is Kim Possible, and this is Ron Stoppable. Kim, Ron, this is my friend Susan Ross." Susan smiled.

"Kara has all the luck," she said enviously, "going to Metropolis all the time, meeting famous superheroes. I should be so lucky."

Kim shook Susan's hand with a smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you too. Ron and I are hoping you can give us a hand."

"Oh really?" Susan asked, surprise evident in her voice. "I take it you aren't in Smallville for the fun of it."

"That's right," Kim confirmed with a nod. "We think Monkey Fist has set up shop somewhere around here." Susan's eyes widened in amazement. "A real supervillain in Smallville. Wow!"

The crowd gathered around them was quite large now, and it was getting hard to hear and talk over the jabber of dozens of voices and the constant barrage of questions. Mention of Monkey Fist had caused a stir as well.

"I think it's time for everyone to get a proper explanation," Kara said. "Susan, could I have the mike please? And could you fire up the PA system?"

"You got it girlfriend," Susan said, producing a wireless microphone from beneath the bar. A shelf behind the bar held the heart of the Talon's sound system. Susan turned a switch and the music died, replaced by a faint hum.

Kara held the mike up and spoke into it. "Hello! I know you're all dying to know what Team Possible is doing in Smallville." There was a chorus of agreement from the crowd. "The short answer is that there's a supervillain on the loose in town, and Kim and Ron are here to take him out. As to the long answer, it's best if you get that from Team Possible themselves." Kara gave the mike to Kim and spoke into her ear, "You're on!"

Kim was grateful that she was no stranger to public speaking. She calmly launched into an edited version of the events that had brought her and Ron to town. She was careful not to mention Jimmy Traskill at all. When the explanation was over she took questions, fielding them adroitly. The inevitable questions about how she knew Kara Kent were answered with only slight distortions of the truth. After all, she and Ron really had met Kara in Metropolis during the Duff Killigan case. Sure, Kara had been in uniform as Supergirl at the time, but the crowd here didn't need to know that. Someone did ask if Jimmy Traskill's disappearance was linked to Monkey Fist. Kim responded by shrugging her shoulders and saying she really had no idea. Her discomfort at lying must have shown a bit, because she was pressed on that matter and had to clarify herself.

"We don't _know_ that Monkey Fist had anything to do with Jimmy Traskill's de-disappearance," Kim said. "And I'm afraid that whatever suspicions we have, we're not at liberty to discuss at the moment." There was a chorus of complaints. Kim went on in a mollifying tone. "I promise though, that when the time comes, you'll get a full explanation." Kara took the microphone then.

"In the meantime," she said, "Kim and Ron could use our help." That sent a buzz of curiosity through the crowd. "Obviously, we know this area better than they do. So if anyone has seen or heard anything suspicious, or even unusual, you can let them know by emailing Kim at her website, or you can call my Aunt and Uncle's and leave a message, or you can call me; I think most of you know my cell phone number."

The crowd broke apart after that, splitting into small groups to gossip excitedly about the events of the day. Kim chatted with a few people who lingered to offer leads. None sounded particularly promising, but she dutifully recorded them in her Kimmunicator. When that was done she turned to find Ron leaning on the bar, sipping a cafe mocha and flirting shamelessly with Susan Ross. "He doesn't waste any time does he?" Kara asked, her amusement evident.

"He's a lot more confident than he used to be," Kim agreed. "Thanks in no small part to you, of course," she added quietly. Kara smiled, then glanced warily about. "Then it had the effect I'd intended," she replied, her voice low.

"She doesn't have a boyfriend, does she?" Kim asked. Kara frowned. "Actually, yes, she does."

"I suppose we'd better pry him away then," Kim sighed.

By the time they left the Talon it was quite dark, the sun having set more than an hour ago. Kim and Ron decided to wait until the next day to interview anyone else, and the three headed back to the Kent farm, where Mr. and Mrs. Kent had offered to put them up.

When they arrived Kara insisted they come out to the barn with her. "I want to show you guys _my_ lair," she grinned. Part of the hayloft had been converted into a kind of den/workshop, with chairs, a table, workbenches and a telescope set up at the loft door. Kara made a beeline for the telescope, a very nice six inch reflector model with plenty of accessories, including a two-axis drive system. She slid the loft door open and bent over the scope while Kim and Ron watched curiously.

"So how did you come to live with the Kents, Kara, if you don't mind me asking?" Ron said, breaking the silence. Kara looked up. "Not at all. After Superman brought me here from Argo I stayed at Star Labs in Metropolis, but Superman didn't think that was a very healthy environment for a girl who'd lost her entire family and found herself a stranger in a very strange world." She returned to fiddling with the telescope. "Superman knows Clark, of course, and mentioned his little problem to him. Clark suggested that his parents might take me in, and that staying in Smallville would make it easier for me to adjust to life here, since any screw-ups I made could be explained away as a result of living in the big city all my life."

"Staying in Smallville would make it easier for you to adjust to life in Smallville?" Ron repeated, sounding confused. Kara shook her head and Kim chimed in, "She means life here on Earth Ron."

"Exactly," Kara agreed. "I had to learn to speak English first of all. Fortunately Professor Hamilton, that's another friend of Superman's, had a prototype teaching machine that not only let me learn American English in two weeks, but even gave me a New England accent." Her voice shifted into a distinct Yankee twang as she spoke the last, and Ron shook his head in amazement.

"What about your background," Kim asked. "You couldn't just take the name Kent and appear out of the blue..."

"True, but Uncle Jonathan has cousins of one degree or another all over America. The Kent's of Kansas came from Boston originally anyway, so it wasn't hard to pass me off as the recently orphaned daughter of a cousin no one around here had ever heard of."

"And your school records, birth certificate, that sort of thing?"

"Faked up by another of Superman's friends." Kara frowned slightly. "Well, he's not really a _friend_, exactly, and he didn't do the actual faking, one of his colleagues did, but he planted the stuff."

"Who's that?"

"The Batman," Kara said absently. "Ah, there we are." She stood up. "Here's something you might be interested in. Have a look, just don't touch anything. I have the 'scope set to track it."

Not sure what Kara was talking about Kim bent to look into the eyepiece. "What am I looking for," she asked.

"See the red dot in the center of the field of vision?"

"Yes."

"That's where I'm from."

A shiver of wonder ran down Kim's spine as she looked at the tiny pinprick of red fire. She thought for a moment that she could actually see a round disk, but decided that it was her imagination. There was no way to see that at this...

"How far?" she asked softly, not looking up.

"Six thousand light years."

"Wow," was all Kim could think of to say.

Ron took a turn at the eyepiece. "That would mean that the light we're seeing now..."

"...is the light that left just about the time Argo was settled from Krypton." Kara shook her head. "But enough of that. If I talk about it too much I'll get depressed, and that's no fun. Have at look at this instead," she suggested, crossing to a workbench and flipping a few switches. A boxlike machine a foot or so on a side rose into the air with a hum until it hovered a foot above the bench. Two cables, one thick one for power, another skinny one for data, were all that attached the box to anything. Ron gave Kara an interested look.

"How are you doing that?" he wondered, passing his hands all around the box, checking for wires and finding none.

"It's a very large, very crude counter-gravity coil," Kara replied. Even as she spoke an alarm began to chirp and the box descended to the bench again. Waves of heat and a little smoke rose from the top of the box. Kara picked up a desktop fan, turned it on and aimed it into the box. "It'll revolutionize life here," Kara said.

"I don't doubt it," Kim said skeptically, "but it doesn't seem very reliable."

"Oh of course not," Kara agreed. "I'll need better materials and better computers to make it work really well. But I'll be 'inventing' those as well."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked.

"Simple. After I graduate from college I'm going into the technology business - the Argoan/Kryptonian technology business to be exact. You should consider investing in Kent Technologies when I take it public. It'll take time of course. Years, in fact, but in the end it'll put Microsoft to shame."

Kim stared as she took in the full implications of what Kara had just said. If she went through with her plan, life on Earth would be radically changed and...Kim stopped. 'What the Hell am I worried about?' Cars, planes, telephones, radios and the like had all radically altered life on Earth. That's what technological advances did. She relaxed and smiled. "I'll start saving for my investment now then."

"Sweet! Let me show you some of the other stuff I'm working on." Kara fired up several more gadgets, and launched into a technical discourse about each that soon made Kim's eyelids droop. Technology wasn't something Kim got excited about. At least not for its own sake. Gadgets came in handy, but you didn't need to understand how they worked to use them. Kim yawned widely.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I guess I'm a bit more tired than I thought. I think I'll turn in for the night. Don't stay up too late Ron, I want to get an early start tomorrow. Good night Kara." Kim headed for the ladder down to the ground floor.

"Good night Kim," Kara called after her. "Night K.P.," Ron added, "I won't stay up too late." Kara crossed to one of the loft's windows and watched Kim walk back to the house. As she went inside Mr. Kent came out and called, "Remember it's a school night, Kara. Don't stay up all night."

"I won't, Uncle Jonathan."

Closing the window Kara turned to Ron. "I thought she was never going to leave."

"Who, Kim? Why would you want her...to...leave?" Ron's words trailed off as Kara gave him a smoldering look.

"I thought we could use a little time alone to get to know each other better. _Much _better," Kara added as she crossed to where Ron stood, took hold of his shirt, and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. Ron's brain was wondering what the Hell was going on, but his hands and mouth knew what to do. His arms slid around Kara's waist, drawing her against him, while he returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm. When they came up for air Ron asked, amused and hopeful at the same time, "Are you offering what I think you're offering?"

Kara pursed her lips thoughtfully. "If you think I'm offering to fuck your brains out, then yes, I'm offering what you think I'm offering," she nodded.

"Hallelujah!" Ron exclaimed softly. He was leaning in to kiss Kara again when he paused. He began a frantic search of his pockets while Kara looked on in confusion. "Damn!" he swore. He gave Kara a stricken look. "I don't have any rubbers with me," he said. Kara grinned and went to her workbench. A drawer yielded up a box of condoms. "I have plenty," she assured him. Then she let them fall back into the drawer and closed it. "Fortunately, we won't need them."

"Are you sure, Kara? I mean, using them is the smart thing to do," Ron said as she approached him again. Kara gently pushed him back until he sat down on a wooden chair. "That's very responsible of you Ron," she said approvingly as she began unbuttoning her shirt. "And if you were anyone else I'd insist, but only for the sake of appearances. And since you know my secret that isn't necessary."

Ron was staring hungrily at the inner curves of Kara's breasts and the creamy white lace of her bra. Hormones were raging through his blood, but he kept his head enough to ask, "Why isn't it necessary?"

"Why do people use condoms?" Kara asked.

"To prevent unwanted pregnancy, and to block the spread of STD's." Ron nearly choked on the last as Kara let her shirt slide off her shoulders onto the floor.

"As to the second," Kara said, straddling Ron's legs to sit on his lap, "My immune system is as super as the rest of me. I can't catch Earth diseases, not even sexually transmitted ones, and I can't be a carrier either." She shivered as Ron's fingertips glided up her back, tracing her spine. "So I can't catch anything from you, and there's nothing for you to catch from me. As to the first," she went on between hungry kisses, "Appearances to the contrary not withstanding, I'm not human." She moaned softly as one of Ron's hands found a breast and squeezed it gently. "Your DNA comes in twenty-three chromosome pairs, mine comes in twenty-four." Ron was fumbling with the catch on the back of her bra with his free hand, and finally got it loose.

"Which means?" he asked, sliding the straps down her arms and tossing the undergarment to one side.

"You can't get me pregnant no matter how hard you try." She stopped kissing him just long enough to pull his shirt over his head. It joined her bra on the floor.

"I'll try hard anyway," Ron pledged, kissing her again.

"Please do," Kara sighed.


	5. Eyewitness

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Kim woke up to sunlight streaming in her window and the sound of people moving. For a moment she wondered where she was, then remembered she was in one of the Kent's guest bedrooms. A glance at the alarm clock showed it was seven thirty. Kim lingered briefly in the soft warmth of the bed, then rolled out of it and headed for the guest bath.

Delicious smells were wafting from the kitchen when she came downstairs. Mrs. Kent greeted her with a cheery smile and bustled her to a seat at the kitchen table. As if by magic a plate of bacon, scrambled eggs and pancakes appeared in front of her.

"There's real maple syrup in the pitcher, Kimberly. Would you like milk or orange juice, and do you care for coffee?"

"Yes to all three, please and thank you, Mrs. Kent," Kim smiled gratefully as her stomach rumbled. She tucked in and was pouring syrup over everything on the plate when Ron stumbled into the kitchen. Kim stifled a laugh. Ron was almost sleepwalking, but his nose was leading him unerringly to food. At least he had been awake enough to shower and put on clean clothes. He hadn't shaved though, she noted with a slight frown of disapproval. She'd have to remind him before they left.

After his first plate of food and second cup of coffee Ron had perked up to his normal cheery self. Kara came in from doing her chores and took a seat. She smiled at Kim and Ron, though the smile she favored Ron with was quite different from the one she offered Kim. Kim hid a knowing smile behind her coffee cup. When Ron got up to fetch some more pancakes Kim leaned over to Kara. "So how was it?" she asked quietly. Kara gave her a blank look.

"How was what?"

Kim nodded toward Ron. "See that expression on Ron's face?"

"Yeah," Kara said warily.

"That's Ron's 'I got laid last night' look." Kara turned pink, and Kim giggled in spite of herself.

"I didn't know he was so easy to read," Kara faltered.

"I've know him a long, long time," Kim said. "So how was it?" she repeated.

"You mean you don't know?" Kara replied archly.

"Not from personal experience, no, but my girlfriends give me detailed reports."

"Really? You're interested?" Kara inquired.

"I get the reports whether I want them or not," Kim explained dryly, "But I suppose I can't deny a certain curiosity. Purely intellectual of course," she added hastily.

"Of course," Kara agreed with a sly smile.

"Of course what?" Ron asked, setting an overflowing plate in front of himself as he retook his seat.

"Oh, we were just talking about today's schedule, that's all."

"So what did you decide?" Ron asked through a mouthful of pancakes.

"Ron! Don't talk with your mouth full," Kim scolded. "And don't forget to shave before we leave." Ron nodded, then gave Kim a questioning look.

"We'll scout around until Kara's done with school, then meet her here and go out together. Hopefully we'll turn up a lead of some sort, or Wade and Chloe will find something."

"They'd better," Ron said after swallowing another mouthful of pancakes, "The odds of us just stumbling across Monkey-boy are about slim to none."

It proved less difficult than that. Just after ten o'clock, when Ron was guiding the Team Possible van through one of Smallville's industrial parks, the Kimmunicator beeped urgently. There was no video, just Kara's voice whispering, "I have something. One of the boys in tenth grade just told me about something going on near his home."

"Why are you whispering?" Ron asked.

"Shhh! I'm in the library, and I'm not supposed to be using my cell phone!" Kara hissed.

"Give us a name and location then, Kara," Kim said.

"Steve Wright is the boy. His father works at a machine shop that got broken into last month. I don't know how Steve thinks it's connected, he wouldn't tell me, but he says his dad wants to talk to you."

"What's his name, and where can we find him ?" Kim asked.

"John Wright. His lunch break is from eleven to noon, and he'll be at Hank's Tap. That's a tavern on North Monroe Avenue, right across from where he works."

"Ok, we'll check it out. Thanks for the tip Kara," Kim congratulated her. "And thank your friend for us, too."

"Will do," Kara pledged. "Let me know what you find out."

"Will do," Kim said and hung up.

* * *

Hank's Tap was in a rundown white clapboard building with a vacant lot on one side and the gutted shell of what might have been a store on the other. Across the street was a fenced in area overgrown with weeds, piled high with rusty junk of every sort, and dotted with buildings of various sizes. The largest was three stories tall, with a gently rounded roof. Lights could be seen through some of the windows, and there were perhaps two dozen cars and trucks parked in front of it. The other buildings were deserted, if the broken windows were any sign. A gate in the chain link fence had a sign on it: Healey Labs.

Kim glanced at her watch. "Not quite ten thirty," she said quietly. "Well," Ron rejoined, "The place seems to be open. We may as well wait inside." Kim couldn't think of any reason not too, so they went inside.

The place was as run down on the inside as it was on the outside. A hodge-podge of cheap wooden paneling and unfinished sheetrock covered the walls. The floor was uneven concrete, much though not well patched. An ancient, oil fired heater stood in one corner of the main room. Posters featuring scantily clad women promoting either beer or sports competed for wall space with mirrors doing the same; photographs of people posing with fish, dead animals, and motorcycles; and neon signs featuring various brewery logos. A few pool tables were visible in a back room, and the air was tinged with cigarette smoke. Somewhat to Kim's surprise, that was the only unpleasant odor. There was no reek of stale beer, vomit, and/or urine. In fact, her nose detected a light pine scent under the smoke 'At least the owner keeps the place clean,' she noted approvingly. She turned her attention to the man behind the bar. He reminded her of an elderly Mr. Barkin, still big as an ox, but worn with age. He wore a blue apron over a red Kansas City Chiefs football jersey, with an unlit cigar clamped between his teeth. He was polishing a glass mug and regarding them with a dispassionate stare. Kim smiled at him winsomely. The man's expression didn't change, but he did speak, his voice deep and rough. "C'n I help you kids?"

"We're meeting someone here at eleven o'clock, sir," Kim said, still smiling. The man just grunted, then jerked a thumb at a sign on the wall behind him. 'One drink minimum,' it read. Kim stepped up to the bar, "What have you got," she asked, trying to sound confident. The barkeep peered at her. "You of age, missy?" Kim bit her tongue. 'At least it wasn't 'Little Missy'', she told herself. She shook her head, "Not for alcohol, sir." "I got Pepsi and RC, plus what's in the cooler," he said, pointing at a glass fronted case. Besides soda, the case held various juices, energy drinks, and even milk. "I'll, uh, have a V8," Kim said. She turned toward the end of the bar, where Ron was examining a table top video game of some sort. "Ron?" Ron looked up. "Pepsi for me, KP," he said. "Oh," he added suddenly, laying a five dollar bill on the bar. "And some quarters."

People began to filter in shortly before eleven, and the fellow behind the bar was soon busy serving drinks and making snacks and sandwiches. Ron and Kim had passed the time playing the various games available on the video machine. They were all adult themed games that involved nude photographs in some way, but Ron had graciously alternated between naked women and naked men without even being asked. They were playing hangman when a man approached them. He was thin, with shaggy, graying brown hair and brown eyes. He wore a long sleeved flannel shirt over a tee shirt and blue jeans. His clothes were smudged with oil and grime, but his hands were freshly scrubbed. His handlebar moustache was 'complimented' by two or three days growth of beard, and a battered seed corn cap perched on his head. He held a beer bottle in his left hand and extended his right. "Kim Possible?"

"That's me," Kim said, smiling, as she took his hand. He squeezed gently and smiled back. "I'm John Wright, pleased to meet you." "The pleasure is mine," Kim replied, then indicated Ron. "My partner, Ron Stoppable." The two men shook hands, then Wright cocked his head and said, "Come with me." He led them to a corner table out of sight of the front door, and most of the bar. Wright took a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and tapped a few out. Taking one for himself he held the pack out to Ron and Kim. "Smoke?"

"No thank you," Kim declined politely. Ron just shook his head. Wright shrugged, lit up, took a long drag, and exhaled slowly through his nose. He seemed to relax visibly.

"We heard through the grapevine that you have something you want to tell us," Kim lead off. John Wright apparently had an agenda though, and getting right to the point wasn't the first thing on it. He smiled thinly and took a sip from his bottle. "So, you two are friends of Kara Kent's?"

Kim's gaze flicked briefly to Ron, then back to Wright. "We're acquainted," she clarified. "Ron and I met her in Metropolis last year. And to be frank we didn't know she lived here." Wright nodded silently and leaned back. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he regarded Kim. For her part, Kim said nothing, just met Wright's gaze. She knew he was sizing her up, deciding whether or not he could trust her. At last he seemed to come to a decision. He leaned forward again and began to speak, but was interrupted by a someone sliding a tray in front of him. It was the big man from behind the bar, who actually had a friendly grin on his face. "There ya go, Jack." Wright grinned back. "Thanks Benny," then the big man was gone again. Kim saw that Ron's eyes were focused on the tray, or rather, on the basket on the tray. Said basket contained a large hamburger with what looked like the works, and was piled high with onion rings. Ron's mouth was already starting to water. Kim jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow. "We'll get lunch later, Ron," she said sternly. Ron sat back, arms folded across his chest, scowling in disappointment.

Between bites of food, sips of beer, and drags on his cigarette, Wright told he tale. "A few weeks ago me and a few of the guys were working late, trying to get caught up on a project. When we finished up for the night the others went out one of the side doors, and I headed up front to turn off the lights and set the alarm system. As I got up toward the office area I heard someone talking. It was Mr. Healey. At first I thought he was on his cell phone, but then I saw that there were people with him. It looked like a man with four small kids, but the man was all hunched over, and the 'kids' were sitting on their haunches like dogs. I could hear the fellow talking, and he had one of those English-type accents. I didn't hear exactly what they were saying, but I did make out the words 'Project Atlas'. I ducked back the way I'd come, then went forward again, making a lot of noise. When I got to the front Mr. Healey was alone and acting all surprised to see me. I told him about staying late to get caught up, we made some small talk, and I left."

"Why didn't you tell the police about this?" Kim asked quietly, trying hard to make herself sound merely curious, not judgmental. Wright looked away for a moment. "I have a wife and three kids to support, Ms. Possible, and this is the best paying job I've ever had," he said when he looked back. "Good benefits, too. I didn't want to rock the boat." He looked down at the table. "And I was scared," he added softly, shame in his voice. "I may be a small town hick with a high school education, but I know who Monkey Fist is, and his reputation." He paused. "Then there's Mr. Healey. He's generous, but he has a temper." Wright grinned humorlessly. "They say there's a fine line between eccentricity and madness. I've always given Mr. Healey the benefit of the doubt, but now I'm not sure anymore."

"I understand," Kim said gently. "Do you know what Project Atlas might involve?"

Wright shook his head. "No clue. I haven't seen anything unusual in the shop, but there might be something in Mr. Healey's lab."

"Where is that?"

Wright stabbed the cigarette burn scarred tabletop with one finger. "We're here. The shop is here," he said, sketching a long rectangle with his fingertip. The lab is in a big shed on the far side." He looked up at Kim. "Whatever you plan to do now, if anything, I don't want to know about it," he said firmly. He rose to his feet. "And you didn't hear anything from me." Kim nodded silently, then Wright turned and walked out of the bar without looking back.

"What do we do now, K.P?" Ron asked.

"First, we find out what we can about this Mr. Healey, and second, tonight we pay his lab a visit."


	6. Deliberation

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Jonathan Kent took a glass of iced tea from the tray Kara held and leaned back in his easy chair. His house was abuzz with activity, a fact which brought a smile of contentment to his face. It was funny how one grew accustomed to have young folks around. He and Martha had half expected to end their days childless, until Clark literally fell out of the sky and into their lives. When Clark had gone off to college and then on to Metropolis the Kent house had suddenly seemed empty. Oh sure, Clark could and did drop by on a moments notice, but it wasn't the same as when he had lived here. Kara's equally unexpected arrival two years ago had been like a gift from Heaven, despite her stay being far more tumultuous than Clark's. Clark had no personal memories of Krypton, and was almost entirely a product of a typical Midwestern upbringing. Kara, of course, had crystal clear memories of her life on Argo, and was a product of that world's 'typical' culture. The two weren't radically different; in fact Argoan values squared rather nicely with those of central Kansas - in general. The problem was in specifics. Behavior that was perfectly acceptable on Argo could raise eyebrows in Smallville, if not cries of righteous indignation over 'moral degeneracy'. Kara had had some choice words about 'sexually repressed Kansans', especially after... Jonathan shook himself. He didn't think of himself as a prig, but he was admittedly old fashioned about certain matters. He blushed at the mere idea of using the phrase 'slept with', let alone the terms Kara had used after she and Melanie Andrews got in a fight at school over Kara 'getting familiar' with Melanie's boyfriend, Tim Zerble. Jonathan snorted in amusement. He and Martha had agreed not to comment on Kara's amorous adventures after Brainiac (the information storage and retrieval device, not the murderously insane android) explained Argoan sexual mores, beyond suggesting that she limit herself to boys who were 'unattached'. That had worked well enough, though Martha, and to a lesser extent Jonathan, was worried about Kara's growing reputation as a hussy.

"Uncle Jonathan?" Kara's voice shook him out of his reverie. "Ummm?" he vocalized, looking up into Kara's cobalt blue eyes. "You all right?" she asked with a bemused grin. Jonathan smiled back at his 'niece'. "Fine," he assured her, "I was just woolgathering." "Well, Chloe just turned on to Bluejay. She should be here in a few minutes." Jonathan glanced over to where Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable were setting up a video camera and monitor in a corner of the living room so their friend Wade could join the conversation they were going to have when Chloe arrived. Looking back at Kara he spoke again. "Are you sure about this?"

Kara stepped back and hugged herself nervously. "Not really," she confessed, "But if Kim and Ron trust Wade, I guess I can too. Assuming he makes the connection, of course." Jonathan nodded silently. As far as Kim and Ron knew, Wade had no idea that Kara Kent even existed, let alone that she was also the Girl of Steel. Still, Wade had seen Kara Zine, and he might make the same leap Kim and Ron had, even if she was wearing glasses and a different hairstyle.

There was a knock at the front door, then the sound of it opening. Footsteps sounded in the hall and Chloe strode into the Kent's living room. "Sorry I'm late," she apologized breathlessly, "I got behind grading papers."

"No big," Kim assured her with a smile, "We just finished setting up, ourselves."

"Let's get started then," Chloe said. Kim plugged her Kimmunicator into the junction box between the camera, the monitor, and the van's satellite antenna and keyed it. The monitor blinked to life and Wade's broad face appeared on the screen. "Hey Wade," Kim greeted him.

"Hey Kim," he returned. "New friends?" he asked curiously.

"These are the Kent's" she explained. "Jonathan and Martha, and their niece Kara." She had to force herself not to clench her teeth in worry as she said the last. Wade had an uncanny knack for reading her moods, and she didn't want to give the game away by sounding nervous. Wade said nothing, so she plowed on. "Chloe introduced us to them, and they've been kind enough to let us set up shop on their farm." Again Wade said nothing, just nodded silently. "Anyway, we've got an eyewitness account of Monkey Fist now, and a location we're going to check out." She turned to Jonathan. "Mr. Kent, what do you know about a Mr. Healey that owns a machine shop in town?"

Jonathan blinked. "Trevor Healey is involved in this?" He sounded incredulous. Kim swallowed nervously, worried that she'd offended him by insulting a close friend. "He seems to be," she clarified. "At least that's what our eye witness said," she explained, giving a brief sketch of what John Wright had told them. "But we don't know if he's a willing accomplice or if he's being coerced." Jonathan gave her a knowing smile. "Relax Kim," he reassured her. "Now that I think about it, the idea of Trevor Healey working with Monkey Fist isn't that much of a stretch. Not because Trevor is bad, so much as because he doesn't have much sense." He shook his head. "It wouldn't be the first time he's done something stupid."

"What do you mean?" Ron inquired.

Jonathan leaned back in his chair. "I don't know him real well, you understand. His older brother Roger was in my class at school, and he and I would hang out once in a while, so I was aware of Trevor, but I didn't pay much attention to him.

"I do remember that he was always taking things apart and putting them back together, even as a child. When he got older, he worked in his dad's car repair business, and set himself up a little shop in a shed behind their house." Martha chimed in. "He used to make his own radios and television sets, too, and he even built an automatic dishwasher for his mother." She gave her husband a fond look. "Jonathan and Roger didn't really get along that well," she explained, "But Jonathan put up with him because, well, he was Carol Healey's brother." Jonathan's cheeks reddened a bit and Martha grinned wickedly. "I was only using Carol to get to you, dear," he demurred. "You two were best friends after all. And didn't Trevor have a crush on you?" It was Martha's turn to blush. "Yes, he did," she admitted. Turning to the others she went on, "He always wanted to show me his latest creation. I have to admit, some of them were pretty impressive. The only problem was that Trevor never followed through on any of them. If he had, he might be a rich man today."

"He is a rich man, Martha, at least by Smallville standards," Jonathan commented. He paused briefly. "But let's see. What do I know about him? Hmmmm. Well, if you haven't already guessed he's the youngest of three children; he got a degree in mechanical engineering from KSU; he was in the Army for twenty years, which still amazes me because never struck as the type who would handle discipline well. I remember Roger telling me that Trevor worked at Redstone Arsenal as a weapons developer - missiles I think it was; he came back to Smallville in the mid-eighties after he retired; he worked at the fertilizer plant for a while but left on bad terms; then he went to work for Donald Ross but got fired for insubordination; then he set up his own shop and that's pretty much it."

"You said he didn't have much sense," Ron remembered. "How so?"

"Trevor, when he was younger at least, had trouble telling good ideas from bad ideas. Once, when the ice cream parlor got a new jukebox he started taking it apart right there in front of everyone. It never occurred to him that the owner might not appreciate that." Ron nodded. "Plus," Jonathan went on, "He had a penchant for taking things that didn't belong to him. He didn't think of it as stealing, he just didn't think it was necessary to ask permission first. And Heaven help anyone who said 'no' to him or tried to stop him taking something he wanted."

"He had a temper?" Kim asked.

"An explosive temper," Martha said. "Carol used to tell me about the temper tantrums he threw when he was younger. His parents weren't soft on discipline, mind, far from it. His father had no qualms about using his belt on the boy, and his mother would send him out to the garden to pick his own switch when she thought he needed correction."

"He calmed down as a teenager though, somewhat anyway." Jonathan added. "And the Army seemed to teach him self-control at least. I've heard he still has an explosive temper, but he keeps it bottled up for the most part."

"So he's a temperamental genius with bad judgment," Kim summarized.

"Sounds like he and Dr. Drakken would get along great," Wade joked, and Kim chuckled. "Is there anything else?" she asked hopefully.

Martha frowned. "I'm not sure how relevant it is, but he was always jealous of Roger."

"Sibling rivalry?" Chloe asked.

"Way beyond that," Martha corrected. "Carol used to say that it seemed that Trevor hated and envied Roger at the same time. Whatever Roger did, Trevor wanted to do better." She looked over at Jonathan, who nodded solemnly. "Roger played football; Trevor played football. Roger went in the Army; Trevor went in the Army. Roger tried out for the space program; Trevor tried out for the space program."

"He was an astronaut?" Ron whistled.

Jonathan shook his head. "Roger was, though he only ever flew one mission. He was the Command Module pilot of Apollo Nine. Trevor got turned down."

"And when he was," Martha told them, "Carol said he threw a temper tantrum that put all the others to shame. He actually hurt himself bad enough that he had to be hospitalized."

"Wow," was all Kim could say. "Anyway Wade, I want you dig up whatever you can on Mr. Healey, especially his machine shop."

"Blueprints and alarms?"

"Please and thank you," Kim smiled. "Have you found out anything about the mutants yet?"

"Oh yeah," Wade nodded. "Chloe and I have come up with a basic list of mutants, direct relatives, and first cousins."

"How many people?"

"Four hundred and ten."

"Four hundred and ten!" Ron exclaimed. "How many mutants were there?"

"Only twenty-two," Wade said, "And two of those aren't confirmed, just highly suspect." He paused briefly, his brow furrowed in thought. "Twenty-two serious mutations, I should say," Wade clarified. "And by serious I mean mutations that got noticed. There may have been many more that were never detected, even by the people that had them."

"How are we supposed to protect that many?" Kim demanded. Wade held up his hand. "Let me explain. The total number of mutants and their relatives is four hundred and ten, but only three hundred and twenty-seven of them are still alive, and of those only one hundred and seven still live in Smallville or the immediate area."

Kim relaxed a bit. "That's still a lot," she said, "but we can at least warn them. And we'll need to tell Chief Gordon that Monkey Fist is definitely in town."

"Don't forget to tell them about the special people on the list Wade," Chloe chimed in.

"Special people on the list?" Kim asked.

"Of the six surviving mutants, two still live in Smallville."

"They're the special people?"

"No, their kids are."

Chloe took over "Sasha Eswara and Jordan Cross are the mutants. Their 'powers' faded years ago, after they got treatment for kryptonite exposure. They both got cancer but managed to survive it. The whole ordeal gave them something in common and brought them closer together. They got married what, twelve years ago, and have three kids."

"So why didn't Monkey Fist go after them?" Ron wondered.

"He may have," Kara pointed out, "And we just don't know about it yet."

"That's a good point," Wade agreed. "I got hold of Jimmy Traskill's autopsy report. There were no signs of a struggle, and no needle marks, so however he was exposed, it can obviously be done without the victim knowing it."

"We definitely need to warn them," Kim said firmly.

"I'll handle that," Chloe said. "Sasha and Jordan don't like to talk about what happened to them, Sasha especially. She and I were never friends in high school, but we've warmed to each other over the years, more so now that we're colleagues."

"She's a reporter?"

Chloe smiled, "No, school teacher. Second grade, to be exact."

"Ok, we'll leave warning the Cross's to you. In fact, maybe you should warn all of the people on the list. They might take it better coming from someone they know, especially if they're at all sensitive about it."

"I can do that," Chloe agreed. She bit her lip thoughtfully. "I think the city might still have some kryptonite detection kits down at the water treatment plant. I'll see if I can commandeer them."

"Good idea," Jonathan agreed sagely. "That just leaves the problem of what Kim and Ron are going to do about sneaking into Mr. Healey's secret lab."

"We never said we were going to sneak in to his lab," Kim said innocently.

Jonathan gave her a stern look, and she grinned. "Ok, we are," she admitted.

"We'll start planning when Wade gets us the plans and the alarm setup."

Wade seemed to hesitate, then said, "Wouldn't it be easier for Kara to scope the place out with her x-ray vision?"

Kim gaped at him, and Kara threw her hands in the air. "Sometimes I wonder why I even bother to try," she exclaimed irritably. She glared at the camera. "Ok Wade, what gave me away?"

Wade grinned at her. "Well, the glasses and the different hairstyle worked," he began. "You looked sort of familiar, but I couldn't place you."

"My voice gave me away?"

Wade shook his head.

"Then what?"

"If you look over your left shoulder, there's a picture of you _without_ glasses on that wall. When I saw that, everything else just clicked into place."

Kara went to the wall and took down the offending photograph. Sure enough, it showed her sans spectacles. She sighed. "How the heck did you see this?" she demanded.

"Noticing background details is one of the things Wade does best, Kara," Kim said quietly. "This is my fault. I should have thought of that myself."

"Don't worry, Kim," Kara said, grinning slightly. "I'm sure I can trust Wade. And now that he's pointed this out I can get rid of any photographs of me without my glasses."

Kim smiled, relieved that Kara wasn't upset. "He does have a point though. Would you mind..?"

"Oh, not at all," Kara said, "I was going to suggest it myself." She paused. "Although, I have to say that I don't want to parade around Smallville as Supergirl unless it's _absolutely_ necessary. Are you two ok with that?"

"Of course," Ron said immediately, Kim echoing him.

"Good. Of course, if you really think you need my help, don't hesitate to call. Now, it's nearly supper time. If you two will help Aunt Martha get supper ready, I'll go take a look at this lab of yours and sketch us a map, and we can plan the night's adventures while we eat."


	7. Infiltration

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Ron let the Team Possible van roll to a halt a few blocks away from Healey Labs while Kim studied the place through her binoculars. They had approached the fenced in complex from the back side, which gave them a good view of Trevor Healey's personal workshop. Exactly what was contained therein was a mystery, since Healey was either foresighted enough, or paranoid enough, to have shielded his lab with lead or a similar dense substance. Whatever it was, it almost completely blocked Kara's x-ray vision. She had been unable to see anything more than vague shapes within the building.

Fortunately for Kim and Ron, Healey's paranoia was limited to the lab itself. Kara had been able to make out every detail of the main machine shop, as well as the tunnel connecting the two structures. She had also seen a second tunnel, much larger than the first, that ran from the lab to a truck garage a quarter mile away. There was a high capacity elevator at each end, and in the garage at least, an overhead crane with a 50 ton capacity. The Kents had been astounded by that discovery. Everyone in Smallville knew about the access tunnel between the shop and the lab. That tunnel had been dug at the same time the lab was built, and had been the subject of a great deal of gossip, mostly about Trevor Healey's eccentricities. Kim agreed with Jonathan's comments that the tunnel was a waste of money, since a simple covered walkway would have done the same job at far less expense. Always assuming, of course, that Healey's only reason for the tunnel had been to avoid the weather while walking between the main shop and his lab. The large tunnel was a mystery. Kara believed that it was newer than the lab, and Jonathan was sure it couldn't have been a pre-existing structure that Healey had stumbled across, for the simple reason that he had lived in Smallville his whole life and had never heard even a single rumor about old tunnels or underground chambers. The unanswered questions of when the large tunnel had been built, and how it had been put in without anyone in town noticing, would be saved for later.

Kim put down her binoculars and turned her attention to the map Kara had sketched for them. She and Ron had decided to gain access to the lab by breaking into the main shop. The lab itself had no windows and only one door, a twelve by sixteen foot overhead type that was shielded like the rest of the lab. The was no question of opening it without Kara's help either, since it lacked any external controls and weighed, at Kara's estimate, nine and a half tons. They had also ruled out the large tunnel. The garage end of it was well covered by alarm systems and was supposed to be a secret. Kim and Ron thought that if anything went wrong, Healey would be more likely to get personally involved with a break-in there. If something went wrong in the main shop however, Healey might dismiss it as a run-of-the-mill crime and let the police handle it.

"Let's review the plan Ron," Kim said quietly. Ron turned his attention to her. He said nothing, but his expression was attentive. "We cut the lock on this old gate and park the van here, between this old shed and this pile of junk," she said, indicating the spot on the map. "That should hide us from casual observation. We'll gain access to the roof of the shop from this loading dock, then to the shop itself through one of the skylights. After I deal with the alarm, we'll take the tunnel to the lab and see if we can get into it." Ron nodded. "Let's get our gear and get busy then," he said.

The two quickly donned knife-proof vest and helmets with built in communications and low-light vision systems. Kim added a wide belt heavy with tool pouches. Ron eyed the small arms locker.

"Guns?" he asked.

"I'd rather not," Kim said, frowning slightly. "Still, we'd be wise to take some weapons. Make 'em non-lethal though." She slid a truncheon into a loop on her belt and tucked a half-dozen flash-bang type stun grenades and an equal number of sting balls - grenades filled with half inch plastic spheres instead of lethal metal fragments - into the pockets of her vest. Ron followed suit. When they were ready Kim took the wheel while Ron grabbed the bolt cutters from the tool box.

The van, its head and tail lights out, nosed up to the long unused back gate. Ron jumped out and in seconds had the lock cut off. It took him a bit longer than expected to open the gate, rust and weeds making the job difficult. It seemed to take forever, but at last Ron had the gate open enough for Kim to ease the van through. As he hauled he gate shut again, Kim backed the van into its hiding spot.

Minutes later they were on the roof of the machine shop, peering down through a skylight over the main entrance.

"There's the alarm control panel," Ron whispered, "Right where Kara said it would be." He laid a hand on Kim's arm. "Remember K.P., when we drop down the motion sensors are going to pick us up, and the alarm will go into standby mode. You'll probably have thirty seconds and three tries at the combination before it goes off."

Kim grinned back at him. "Don't sweat it Ron. I'm a natural at this stuff, remember?"

Ron feigned deep emotion. "Great Aunt Mim would be so proud of you," he choked, wiping away an imaginary tear."

The skylight wasn't wired into the alarm system. Given Trevor Healey's penchant for extravagant spending that was a bit of surprise, but Kim wasn't going to complain. Working quickly she cut a hole in the pane nearest the latch, then reached through and unlocked the skylight. Ron anchored their ropes, then helped Kim open the heavy skylight. A few seconds later they were on the shop floor. Kim crossed to the alarm control panel. She dusted the keypad with a brush and powder from a pouch on her belt, then shined an ultraviolet light on it. A wide grin split her face. Like all too many people, Healey and his employees had failed to take the elementary precaution of wiping the keypad off after they used it. The luminescent powder, clinging to the skin oil each touch had left behind, showed which keys had been pressed last: one, two, four and nine.

"We'll try his birth year first," Kim mused aloud as she pressed the buttons. She frowned. Nineteen forty-two hadn't worked. "Ok, his birth year backwards." Twenty-four ninety-one did the trick. The display switched from 'Alarm Tripped' to 'Alarm Off', and Kim sighed in relief.

* * *

Healey's offices were locked, both the outer office where his secretary worked, and his own inner office. Kim decided that the locks were more to keep out curious or nosey employees than anything else, because they were ordinary residential pin-tumbler locks. Neither one of them took her more than a minute to pick.

Healey's odd paranoia reared its head again in his office. The entrance to his private tunnel was hidden by a false wall panel, the control for which Kara hadn't been able to find. Kim and Ron spent several long minutes searching and trying possible triggers, without luck. Kim was examining an electrical outlet nearby when Ron's eyes happened to fall on a small bust on Healey's desk. A light bulb went off in his head. "No way," he said aloud. Kim stood up and looked at him, then followed his gaze to the desk, and the bust. Realization dawned. She glanced back at Ron and shrugged. "It's worth a shot," she said. Ron reached out and twisted. William Shakespeare's head tilted back to reveal a hidden switch. Ron pressed it, and the wall panel slid aside to reveal a short flight of stairs. "Guy watches too much television," Ron muttered.

The tunnel itself was bare concrete, lit by harsh fluorescent bulbs. At the far end a heavy steel door with a single small window waited for them.

This was going to be a challenge. Kim examined the door. It was at least two inches thick, maybe more, with a sophisticated electronic lock. Fortunately the lock was a common commercial type. 'Let's see if Healey's made another common mistake,' she smirked silently. Many combination locks came from the factory with a preset combination that most owners didn't bother to change. Unfortunately for the owners, said preset combination tended to be the same for each model of lock, and if a potential thief knew the standard combination...Kim consulted her Kimmunicator and punched in a ten digit code.

The lock's readout displayed the words 'Access denied'. "Damn," she swore softly.

"Trouble Kim?" Ron asked. He sounded worried. Waiting while in hostile territory always made Ron nervous. Kim gave him a reassuring smile. "This may take a while Ron. You'd better relax."

"Easier said than done, I'm afraid," he replied, but he grinned too. Kim pulled a screwdriver from her tool belt and started to remove the lock's faceplate.

* * *

They had a long wait. It had taken Kim less than five minutes to open up the lock mechanism, disable the combination retry limiter, and plug in her Code Cracker, a small but fast and powerful computer whose sole function was to try every combination that could be put on the lock. The lock used ten digit codes, with ten available characters per slot: a mere ten billion possible combinations. The Cracker could put a million different combinations per second on the lock. At which rate it would only take two and three quarter hours to try them all. Almost two hours of that time had crept by, the silence broken only by the quiet whisper of the ventilation system and the faint buzz of the fluorescent lights.

Kim glanced at the Code Cracker. It had tried almost seventy-five percent of the combinations. Kim forced herself not to sigh in frustration. The odds of _not_ hitting the correct combination on the next try were much less than fifty-fifty now, and shrinking at an ever increasing rate. 'Always expect it to take the full time,' she reminded herself. 'Be patient.' A slight sound drew her attention. Ron had shifted his position a little, but his eyes remained focused on the other end of the tunnel. Kim hid a smile. Ron had changed a great deal since he'd joined Kim in her crime fighting adventures. The skinny, awkward, food obsessed, easily distracted fourteen year old boy he'd once been was gone. Kim gazed at him fondly. Ron had grown six inches and packed on thirty pounds of hard muscle, and if he wasn't as agile as Kim, he wasn't clumsy anymore. He still loved to eat, of course, routinely putting away twice as much food as Kim did. 'Not surprising,' she told herself, 'since he weighs twice as much as I do.'

Out of the corner of his eye, Ron caught a glimpse of Kim looking at him. He cocked his head and turned his eyes to meet hers. "What?" he asked. Kim smiled, even as her cheeks heated with embarrassment. "I was just thinking that you've hardly moved a muscle in two hours, Ron. When did you get so disciplined?" Ron threw Kim an amused grin. "I dunno," he answered. "I guess it just sort of happened. People change, you know," he added. Kim nodded back. "Yes," she said, almost wistfully, "People do change."

The Code Cracker beeped. Its tiny display read 'Combination found'. Working quickly Kim restored the lock mechanism to its original configuration, then entered the number the Cracker indicated. A loud clack echoed in the tunnel. Kim tried the door latch. It moved easily, and the door swung in as she pushed it.

They paused at the top of the stairs. Healey's lab was almost pitch black, the few light sources being too weak to overcome the darkness. "All I see on IR is machines," Ron reported in a barely audible whisper. "No sign of life. Shall I turn on the lights?"

"May as well," Kim replied. Ron's hand went to a nearby bank of switches. Moments later the vast cavern of the lab filled with hard, blue-white light. And a cavern it was. Machine tools and other equipment lined the walls, but the center was empty save for a steel framework that might have been a machine in the first stages of construction.

"See anything suspicious?" Kim asked.

Ron's eyes were examining every nook and cranny of the lab. He shook his head slightly. "No. But then, I'm not sure what we're looking for."

Kim nodded in silent agreement. "Let's find a computer. Maybe Healey has something in his files that will be useful."

* * *

Wade, working through the Kimmunicator, made short work of the PC they found, and it proved to be a gold mine. There were many references to a client referred to only as 'MF' ("I wonder who that could be," Kim had asked, nudging Ron in the ribs. He had smirked back "Could it be...Monkey Fist?" Then his face had darkened. "It's only circumstantial though."), but nothing that unambiguously linked Healey to Monkey Fist. 'MF' had ordered, and Healey had built, a three stage rocket capable of putting a five ton satellite in a high polar orbit. In his notes Healey mentioned that the satellite itself was being provided by a third party, 'D', who had also provided Healey with 'invaluable and fascinating technical assistance' as well as an offer of further assistance with Healey's own projects and even employment by 'D' himself.

"Drakken?" Kim wondered aloud. "Still in prison in Greece, Kim," Wade provided.

Ron stiffened suddenly, and Kim felt surge of anticipation. There was a flash behind them, and a rumble like thunder. Whirling, Kim and Ron saw a glowing ring that seemed to pulsate and throw off ghost images of itself. The ring faded quickly, leaving an all too familiar form, surrounded by what seemed like hundreds of other all too familiar forms, in its place.

"Monkey Fist! But how...?"

Monkey Fist bowed slightly and chuckled. "Do you like it?" he asked amicably. "They call it a 'Boom Tube'," he added. Fist's face contorted into an expression of pure rage and hate. "But as far as you're concerned, you can call it a Doom Tube!" he shrieked. Fist's arm shot out, a trembling finger pointed straight at Ron and Kim.

"Monkey ninjas, attack!"


	8. Violence

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

"Kill them!" Monkey Fist bellowed as his monkey ninjas surged forward. Kim plucked a flash/bang from her vest, pulled the pin and tossed it toward the onrushing monkeys in one smooth motion. Ron had done the same, she saw. She shut her eyes and ducked her head just in time for the grenades to go off. Even through closed eyelids Kim saw the dazzle of burning magnesium and its accompanying thunderclap. She didn't actually hear Ron's grenade go off, but she did hear shrieks of surprise and the sounds of ricochets. Ron had thrown a sting ball instead of a flash/bang. Monkey Fist and his ninjas paused, some blinded, some deafened and disoriented, others merely hesitant. Kim grabbed Ron's wrist. "Let's get out here!" she exclaimed, and started toward the small tunnel. Ron followed hard on her heels.

"Stop them!" Monkey Fist cried. "Ron Stoppable must not escape!"

Not bothering to look back, Ron dropped a flash/bang and another sting ball as he Kim sprinted across the lab floor. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw dozens of monkey ninjas surging past them on either side, racing ahead to block their escape. Kim saw them also, tossed grenades of her own to discourage them, then drew her truncheon. The grenades Ron had dropped cooked off with undetermined results; neither he nor Kim bothered to look back. Instead they focused on the handful of monkey ninjas that had come through Kim's grenade attack to block the tunnel entrance. Ron's own truncheon came whistling from its belt loop, even as a pair of ninjas leapt at him. The shaft of the weapon connected with the head of the nearest monkey. There was a sickening crunch, and the monkey flew past, limp as an old rag, unconscious or dead. The next monkey landed on him, clawing at his head with its paws and feet. Ron's free hand closed around the creature's neck. A strong tug pulled the crazed beast away, and a quick jerk snapped its neck. Ron threw the corpse at a monkey that was attacking Kim, and then hammered another monkey to the floor as it jumped for her.

They practically drove down the stairs into the tunnel. Kim dropped another pair of grenades while Ron shut the door behind them. They ran. The grenades went off, and in the narrow confines of the tunnel the concussion hammered at them, even through the thick steel door. They crashed through Healey's offices without slowing down and charged into the main shop. Monkey ninjas came boiling out of the offices behind them.

"There," Ron cried, pointing at the rear wall of the shop. Large windows cut through the wall, and Ron hurled a sting ball at one of them. It exploded just short of the glass, shattering the entire pane. "Go!" Ron commanded. Kim sprinted for the opening, dove through it, tucked into a somersault and was on her feet and running for the van without ever slowing down.

Ron paused long enough to toss another sting ball at the advancing monkeys, then jumped through the window himself. He dropped two more grenades inside the building, falling to the ground to avoid the blast.

Kim jumped into the van and touched the ignition switch. The engine roared to life. Her fingers stabbed other buttons. The van shivered as the roof panels slid aside and the weapons pedestal reared up. The windshield flickered as the heads up targeting display came to life, and a joystick unfolded itself from a hidden compartment in the armrest. Grabbing it, Kim toggled through the weapon selection menu until she came to the minigun. She squeezed the trigger to its first detent. The van twisted as the six-barreled minigun spun up to its full speed of one thousand revolutions per minute. Ron jumped to his feet and started running for the van. Monkey ninjas began to pour through the broken window. Windows to either side broke as well, and small furry shapes began leaping through the jagged openings.

"Get down Ron," Kim said urgently.

Ron heard the gun spin up. Even as he began to throw himself flat, a memory flashed through his mind, of the first time he had fired the gun, at the Global Justice training facility at Twenty-nine Palms. He had been utterly enamored of the weapon, and to Kim's amusement had given it a nickname: The Dragon.

Ron fell flat, and Kim pressed the trigger to its second detent.

The Dragon roared.

Monkey ninjas blew apart as a hurricane of alloy jacketed lead tore into them. Ron cringed as a wave of hot gun gas washed over him, and his ears were assaulted by the drawn out blast of each burst.

Monkey Fist gaped in disbelief as the front ranks of his ninjas disintegrated. The ninjas were fanatically loyal to him, and feared nothing, not even death, but Fist realized instantly that this battle was over. To continue the attack would be a pointless waste.

"To me, my ninjas," he commanded. Those that could do so rejoined their master. Even as he activated the Boom Tube Fist threw a thought toward his foes. 'We _will_ meet again,' he promised them.

Kim sat quietly on the front bumper of the van, taking in the scene around her. Ron sat cross legged on the ground next to her, his head dropped forward. A cacophony of shrieks moans and wails rose from wounded monkey ninjas. A pair of local veterinarians were making their way through the wreckage, putting down those too wounded to save, sedating those that might make a decent recovery. Ron, tender hearted animal lover that he was, flinched at each cry of pain, even more so as they came less often. Kim could almost feel the raw burn of his emotions, but the only comfort she could offer was a hand laid gently on his shoulder. Her own feelings were roiling as well. The sickening smell of blood and viscera mingled with the odor of hot brass and burnt cordite. Memories of the Eisenhower Tunnel bubbled up in her mind, including one of a charred corpse whose shriveled eyes seemed to stare at her accusingly. Red and blue light flashed from the dozen or so emergency vehicles that had swarmed to the Healey compound after the shooting stopped, bathing the area in an eerie glow.

Nearby, Trevor Healey, dressed in sweat pants and an old bathrobe, was having a heated argument with Chief Gordon.

"God damn it Gordon!" he raged. "These punks break into my buildings, intent on stealing who knows what, set off a bunch of fireworks, then riddle my shop with machinegun fire, and you aren't going to do anything! I DEMAND that you arrest them!"

"Calm down, Healey," Gordon replied, his own voice angry. "Ms. Possible has already explained to me that she and her partner believed Monkey Fist was in your building. That constitutes probable cause in my book, and even you can see that their suspicions were correct." Gordon gestured at the corpse strewn area beneath the windows.

Kim felt a flash of anger herself. How dare Healey pass himself off as the wronged party, as an innocent victim? She stood up and stalked over to him.

"And just what was Monkey Fist doing in you lab anyway, Healey?" she asked, acidly.

Healey glowered at her balefully. "And what were you doing in my lab, little missy?" he asked, his tone patronizing.

Kim ground her teeth. "You're in cahoots with Monkey Fist aren't you, rocket builder boy?"

Healey smiled coldly. "You may have had 'probable cause' to break into my lab," he said pleasantly, "but I can't see any probable cause for you to hack my computers. At least," he added contemptuously, "none that will stand up in court..._Little Missy_!"

Kim felt herself start to lose it. Her weight shifted in preparation for the lunge she was going to make at Healey when Chief Gordon's arm interposed itself.

"At ease, Possible," he commanded, his voice quiet but cracking like a whip. Then, for her ears alone: "He's baiting you. Don't take it."

Kim offered Healey a last, hateful glare, then return to her place at the van. Gordon took Healey's wrist and said, "Now Trevor, why don't you take me on a little tour of your facilities, so we can compile a list of the damages?" The words were polite enough, but they were an order, not a question.

A crowd of onlookers had been gathering almost from the beginning, and there were now several TV vans on the scene, as well as newspaper and radio reporters. The police were keeping them at bay, thankfully, but Kim knew she'd have to speak to them eventually, and she dreaded the notion. She was in no mood to speak to the press. There was a commotion in the ranks outside the police line, then Kara burst through, followed closely by Jonathan and Martha. Kara took little notice of the bloody aftermath of Kim and Ron's confrontation with Monkey Fist. No doubt she'd already seen everything. Jonathan and Martha hadn't. Martha shuddered and looked away from the mess, then made a beeline for Kim and Ron. Jonathan flinched slightly, but carefully swept the area with his eyes before following his wife.

Martha had apparently decided to get Kim and Ron away from the glare and confusion, and back to the security of the Kent farmstead, for she began bundling them toward the family car. Kara stood nearby, silent, her hands clenching and unclenching. Several times she made as if to speak, but stopped. Kim smiled in bitter amusement. Kara was probably the most powerful woman on Earth, and here she was, rendered helpless by that all too human failing: not knowing what to say. Jonathan told Kara to drive the Team Possible van back to the farm. She nodded silently. Jonathan spoke briefly with the deputy chief of police, who nodded and ordered his men to clear a path. Then, thank God, they were in the Kent's car and heading away from that dreadful place.

In the kitchen of the only place he had ever called home, Jonathan Kent sat down facing Kim and Ron. He had bustled Kara and Martha out of the room, so he could have a frank talk with the two friends. They hadn't said a word since leaving the lab, and Jonathan knew exactly why.

"I know how you feel," he said, simply.

"Like hell you do," Kim snapped. She cringed instantly. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kent," she apologized, "I didn't mean that."

Jonathan only smiled. "Of course you did, Kim." Jonathan fixed the two with a steady gaze. "The day after I graduated from high school I took the bus to Wichita and enlisted in the army," he said quietly. "The Korean War was still going on, and I volunteered to go to over there, because I wanted to be able to say that I'd been in combat. I was eighteen years old and had never been outside of Kansas, and there I was, halfway 'round the world, wading through rice paddies with a rifle in my hands."

"I remember the first time I killed a man," he went on in that same, quiet voice. "My platoon was on patrol, and I was on flank. He probably was too. I don't know if he was North Korean or Chinese, but I think he was about my age. I saw him, he saw me. He rushed his shot and missed. I took my time...and didn't miss. He got this surprised look on his face. Then he sort of sat down, swayed a bit, then lay down like he was going to sleep." Jonathan's voice broke slightly as he said the last, and Kim looked up to see his eyes glistening. "I can see it as clearly as if it happened yesterday. If I live to be a hundred, I'll never forget that kid. And I hope I never do." He looked at them solemnly. "Pray that killing never becomes easy for you. I knew guys who could. Some of them even had the grace to be frightened by their own callousness." Words failed him at that point, so he simply reached out, took one of their hands in his own, and squeezed.

Neither Kim or Ron slept much that night, and if his appearance was any indicator, neither did Jonathan. 'Bad memories,' Kim assumed when she saw him at the breakfast table. He put on a cheerful air though, and supported Kara when she asked for a complete recount of what had happened. Kim and Ron took turns telling the tale. When they came to Monkey Fist's unexpected arrival Kara flinched at the phrase 'boom tube', so much so that her glass of orange juice exploded as her fingers crushed it effortlessly. She demanded an description of the effect. Ron provided one.

"Damn!" Kara swore vehemently. "Monkey Fist has himself an ally all right. Darkseid. Rao help us all."


	9. A New Wrinkle

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

"Who's Darkseid?" Kim asked as she wiped orange juice off her face. Kim hadn't heard the name before, that she could recall anyway. Ron gave her a blank look and shrugged. Kara paused only long enough to clean up the mess she had made (which disappeared between blinks) before she explained.

"Darkseid is the absolute ruler of a planet called Apokolips. He's as evil as he is ugly, and he's really ugly."

"Just what we need," Ron muttered, "Some freak from another planet making trouble for us."

"Hey!" Kara exclaimed, "I'm from another planet!" Her tone and expression were mischievous rather than angry, and Ron grinned at her.

"Yes, but you're as nice as you are beautiful, and you're really beautiful," he declared, giving her an over-the-top, goo-goo eyed expression. Kara laughed. Kim rolled her eyes, but she smiled too. Ron was all ready shaking off the funk he'd been in last night, and that was good.

"Flatterer," Kara scolded him.

"Getting back to Darkseid," Kim said, "Why would the ruler of another planet help a small town engineer, or even a wacko like Monkey Fist?"

"I don't know," Kara admitted. "Of course, Darkseid himself probably isn't involved. In fact, he may not even know about what's going on."

"So we're dealing with...?" Kim probed, one finger tracing a circle in the air.

"One of his underlings; maybe one of his lieutenants, but probably not. Darkseid keeps them on a pretty short leash these days."

"And why would a lackey do something like this when, as you seem to be suggesting, this Darkseid wouldn't approve?" Kim asked.

Kara made a face. "You have to understand how things work in that rat hole of his. Darkseid seems to fancy himself as some sort of god, a harsh, cruel god who wants to rule every aspect of his peoples' lives. He decides, for example, who gets to eat, and how much and how well. Just surviving, not to mention getting ahead in life, depends on pleasing him, so these underlings of his are always trying to curry favor for themselves, and make their rivals look bad. That leads to some pretty convoluted plots, and makes guessing the motive behind any particular move difficult at best."

"Even when the move involves doing something he disapproves of?"

"Believe me, Kim, Darkseid will only disapprove if the scheme fails."

"Why does this Darkseid guys even care about Earth anyway?" Ron wondered. "What could we possibly have that he would want?"

Kara grinned humorlessly. "First, we have freedom, which Crag Face would take away in an instant for the sheer delight of enslaving us; and second, because he's been told to keep his paws off the Earth, and there isn't much that makes him madder than being told what he can and can't do."

"Sounds like your average bully," Kim growled.

"Pretty much," Kara agreed, "but he's a bully with enormous power at his disposal; both militarily and his own innate abilities."

"How powerful is he?"

"Stronger than Superman," Kara said matter-of-factly, and Kim shuddered. "It took Cl... Kal-el and I working together to beat him last time."

"Who could tell someone like that what to do?" Kim asked.

"A rival planet called New Genesis, that, thank Rao, is more powerful than Darkseid and his armies They aren't a lot stronger, mind, and they aren't warlike either, so they've limited themselves to imposing a peace, and telling Darkseid to leave Earth alone."

"So he's messing with us just because he was told he can't," Ron said. "He's not just a bully, he's a spoiled brat bully."

"I won't argue with that," Kara agreed amiably.

Kim stood up and began pacing, her brow furrowed in though. "Ok," she said. "Monkey Fist obviously wants to put a satellite in orbit and he has apparently acquired the means to do it. Whatever he's up to involves kryptonite somehow, and given his obsessions, doubtless involves monkeys as well." She stopped and straightened up, rubbing her forehead. "All of which tells us very little about what his plans are."

"Well, maybe he wants to use the satellite to expose everyone on Earth to kryptonite radiation; maybe mutate us all into monkeys?" Ron speculated. "A polar orbit would let him cover the whole planet in a few days."

"True," Kara mused, "but kryptonite isn't that dangerous to humans. Oh, sure, with prolonged exposure you'd get some health effects, mostly in the form of a higher risk for cancer, and people with a high enough proportion of metagenes might develop some kind of super power, but you're still looking at months, if not years, of exposure." Kara paused, her eyes thoughtful. "Plus, now that I think about it, the only radiation kryptonite gives off that could cause mutations are gamma rays, and they won't penetrate the ozone layer."

"Could that be his target?" Kim asked.

"Maybe, but if so, why use a satellite? No weapon a satellite could carry would be very effective. What radiation ozone blocks, it can soak up like a sponge, and what it can't block passes through it harmlessly. Chemicals would be a lot more effective, and they could be released from the ground."

Ron snapped his fingers. "What about scattering kryptonite dust everywhere? I read once that some people worried about the nuclear power packs on space probes because, if there was an accident during launch, the packs could burn up and spread plutonium over everything."

"I suppose that's a possibility," Kara allowed, "but again, to get significant results in a short time you'd need thousands of tons of kryptonite, and one little satellite isn't going to be able to carry it all."

"I think you're coming at this the wrong way," Jonathan interjected. Kim, Ron, and Kara all looked at him. "Instead of trying to figure out _what_ Monkey Fist is going do, maybe you should concentrate on _when_ and _where_ he's going to do it. I don't know how big a rocket has to be to get into orbit, but I know it had to get out of Healey's lab through that second tunnel, so it can't be too big."

"Unless they took it out in pieces," Kara pointed out.

"Even then, heck, especially then," Kim broke in, "He'd need to get it ready to launch; you know, assemble it, fuel it, that sort of thing, which means a fairly specialized facility."

"Ok," Ron agreed, "but where would he build something like that without anyone noticing?"

"Uh, Ron, Healey put that tunnel in with no-one noticing."

"Yeah, but a rocket has to be above ground to launch, right?"

"Not necessarily, Ron," Jonathan said. "I think the project name Healey mentioned is a clue to where you should be looking." The three looked on expectantly as an amused, knowing grin spread across Jonathan's face. "It just so happens that this part of Kansas is dotted with abandoned missile silos. _Atlas_ missile silos."

* * *

"According to what I've been able to find," Wade said from the Kimmunicator, "The last Atlas missiles were taken out of service in the late nineteen sixties. The silo complexes were stripped of whatever gear might still be useful, then locked shut and left to rot, basically. A lot of them were given back to the people who had originally owned the land they were built on, or sold off to private buyers."

"What in the world would anyone want with an old missile silo?" Kim demanded.

Wade shrugged. "Some people use them for storage, some as storm shelters. One guy even turned his into a house."

"It takes all kinds I guess," Kim muttered to herself. "Have any changed hands recently?"

Wade shook his head. "Not recently, at least not in your area."

"Send us a list with their locations, Wade," Kara suggested. "I can check them out in a few minutes."

"Maybe not even that long," Wade grinned. " There are only twelve of them, after all."

"Only twelve?" Kim asked. "That's not very many."

"Only seventy-two Atlas missiles were ever based in silos and only twelve of those were in Kansas. The rest were in above ground facilities."

While Wade prepared his list, Kara changed her clothes. It was a fascinating process, Kim had to admit. It turned out that Kara usually didn't wear her costume under her clothes ("Too bulky," she explained. "People might notice. Plus," she added with a wry smile, "I've yet to find a way to wear boots under shoes without it looking just ridiculous."). Instead, she carried it in her purse, or in a pocket, compressed (in the case of her boots) into a form as thin and foldable as tissue paper. Kara handed one to an astonished Kim, who was surprised that the flimsy looking thing in her hand weighed so much. Kara took it back, jiggled it somehow, and Kim watched in awe as it seemed to inflate, taking on the normal shape and texture of a red leather boot.

"Pretty neat, huh?"

"I'll say," Kim said enviously. "It would make packing _so_ much easier."

Ron, who had left the room (somewhat reluctantly, Kim had noticed) while Kara changed, returned with a spare Kimmunicator. "Wade loaded the list into this and cross linked it with the built in GPS function. It'll take you right to each silo."

"Sweet! Ok, you two sit tight. I'll be back before you know it." Kara paused at the back door just long enough to make sure the coast was clear, then she was gone.

Ron sighed. "She is so totally hot in that outfit."

Kim pushed past him and went outside. There was a swing on the back porch, and she plopped down on it. "It's not very practical," she opined. Ron sat down next to her.

"True," he allowed, "but then, it's not like she needs to take a bunch of gadgets with her when she goes on a mission." Kim didn't say anything. Ron took one of her hands in his. Kim smiled as he interlaced his fingers with hers. She gave his hand a gentle squeeze and looked up at him.

"You like her, don't you?"

"Naturally."

"Do you think it'll go anywhere?"

"What, you mean like marriage?" Ron shrugged. "Dunno. I'm not looking that far ahead."

Kim rested her head on his shoulder. "Sorry," she apologized. "Comes with being a girl. Suitability as a mate is one of the first things we look at in a guy."

Ron said nothing, just gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. After a bit he switched hands and put his arm around her. She snuggled closer. Ron breathed deeply. Kim smelled good, the way only girls could. She must, he thought, have used at least a touch of her favorite body lotion after her shower, for there was a faint aroma of strawberry about her. Not too much, and certainly not overpowering, like some girls were with their perfume. Light, subtle, just enough to make its presence known. He breathed in again, and let out a contented sigh. In the cool light of a Kansas morning, under a cloudless blue sky, with his best friend beside him, Ron felt the horrors of the previous night leave him, the images drifting apart and vanishing, like tatters of fog before a breeze.

Life was good.


	10. Deathtrap

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

A few minutes turned into more than half an hour. Kim had dozed off, and Ron was drifting on the edge of sleep himself when a red, white and blue blur swooped down behind the barn. Seconds later, Kara came strolling out and headed toward them. Ron sat up, and nudged Kim.

"Kara's back," he said. Kim's eyes fluttered open and she sat up as well, stretching and yawning as she did so. "What'd you find out Kara?" she asked.

"I found out that missile silos, even old ones, are hard to see into," Kara replied. Kim and Ron groaned. "Hey," Kara objected. "The things were designed to survive nearby nuclear explosions! They're thick, ok? Besides," she added, "this'll teach you to rely too heavily on one ability."

"So you didn't find out anything?" Kim asked disappointedly.

Kara snorted. "Of course I found something out." She grinned. "I do have super senses besides x-ray vision, you know."

"Well then, don't keep us on pins and needles," Ron prompted excitedly.

Kara grinned again. "Silo number six, near a little town called Mitchell, about sixty-five miles north-northwest of here." She paused. "Little is being generous," Kara amended. "Miniscule might be better. It's just a few houses. A wide spot in the road, as Uncle Jonathan would say." She shook her head. "Anyway, the silo is a couple of miles east of town, at the intersection of Avenue J and 23rd Road."

"What makes you think this is the one?" Kim asked.

"The access road has been abandoned for years, by the look of it, but someone has been driving heavy equipment down it. You can tell by the tracks in the grass. Also, the site has been partially cleared, and there's a new lock on the entry way."

"That doesn't necessarily prove anything," Ron observed.

"True," Kara agreed. "Whoever is clearing the site may have a perfectly legitimate reason for doing so, and they may simply have not gotten around to grading and graveling the access road yet."

"But?"

"But, I could hear machinery noises coming from underground, and the launch control center and silos were warmer than the ground around them. There's also a new generator on site, and the septic system is in use."

Kim nodded grimly. "That sounds pretty conclusive," she agreed. She stood up. "C'mon Ron, lets go check it out." She paused suddenly. "Wait a second. Silos? As in, more than one?" Kara nodded.

"I thought there was only supposed to be one." Kara just shrugged.

"All I know is that there are three large cylindrical structures, each topped by a set of blast doors. The first is where it's supposed to be, in line with the LCC, a hundred and fifty feet away. The other two form an equilateral triangle with the first, a hundred and fifty feet on a side, with another structure in line between the two extra silos."

A call to Wade failed to solve the mystery conclusively. He wasn't able to find any documentation, official or otherwise, that explained why this silo complex was different from all the others. All he could suggest was that the site had been a prototype for the next generation Titan I missile bases, which had a similar layout.

Kara stepped back and glanced down at her wristwatch. "Ok, I have to get to school. What I said last time still goes: don't call unless it's an emergency; and if it is an emergency, don't hesitate."

"Got it," Kim said. Kara held out her hand. "Better luck this time," she said. Kim took the hand and shook it. "I sure hope so," she said, smiling. Kara grinned back, turned to give Ron a quick goodbye kiss, and headed into the house to get ready for school.

* * *

It was nearly two hours later when the Team Possible van turned north off US Highway 56 onto 23rd Road. A mile later it rolled to a stop at the spot where Avenue J branched off to the west. The old access road was a short distance beyond, joined to 23rd Road by an intersection with unusually wide shoulders. It ran to the west through a wide cut in a low, grass covered hill. According to the map, the silo was just on the other side of that hill. "I wonder why the shoulders are so wide?" Kim mused aloud. "I mean, they're twice as wide as usual."

"That's so the trucks carrying the missiles to and from the site could make the turn," Ron answered. "It would have been something like seventy or eighty feet long, all together. A truck that long can't turn very sharply." Kim quirked an eyebrow at him. "History Channel show about aerial reconnaissance," Ron explained with a grin. Kim shook her head in disbelief. "And people say you can't learn anything by watching TV," she muttered. She shook her head again. "So how should we handle this? I'm guessing Monkey Fist is expecting us to visit."

Ron nodded. "That's a pretty safe bet," he agreed. "In fact, I'd say it's a safe bet he already knows we're here," he added, pointing to what looked like an old windmill, though it was likely a radio antenna of some sort. Anyone at the top of the structure would have a clear view of the road, and it was silly not to expect that Monkey Fist had placed a camera there.

"So do we use the main entrance, or try the escape hatch?" Kim asked. The main entrance would be by far the easiest, but it was certain to be guarded. The escape hatch led right to the heart of the launch control capsule, but it could only be opened (easily at least) from inside the LCC. And the route consisted of a steel reinforced concrete tube a bare two feet wide, with a ladder that led down to the upper level of the LCC. Anyone going in that way would first: attract a great deal of attention, and second: commit themselves to an approach that would leave them highly vulnerable to attack and unable to defend themselves. Ron cringed as he considered the options. Finally he shrugged and said. "Main entrance." He gave Kim a wry grin. "Unless you want to try the one of the silo hatch doors."

"Maybe, if I still had Hego's super strength," Kim agreed, smiling slightly. The two doors covering each of the silos were also of reinforced concrete and weighed something on the order of forty tons apiece. Nothing they had with them would crack that nut. With no other options available, Kim guided the van down the access road.

The site itself was a picture of desolation. The collapsed remains of a pair of Quonset huts framed the concrete pads that covered the silos. The concrete box of the entryway was partly obscured by weeds and bushes. But, there was clear evidence that something was going on. Dirt and grass that had crept onto the pads had been brushed back. Fresh tire tracks from large trucks crisscrossed the area. Kim pointed wordlessly to a vent stack that poked up from the ground. Rippling waves of heat rose from it, and when they got closer their noses picked up the aroma of diesel exhaust. A quick check of the entryway confirmed Kara's report of a new lock.

* * *

Ron paused as he positioned the bolt cutter on the lock and took a quick look around. Kim shifted the H&K MP-5N submachine gun she was carrying and glanced around as well. "Something the matter?" she asked.

"It just hit me," Ron said slowly. "There's nobody outside...so who put this lock on the door?"

That was a good question. Kim took a careful look around. There weren't many places for a person to hide, but there were some. The wreckage of the Quonset huts, for example. She glanced at the ground. There were lots of footprints in the dusty soil, some human, some monkey. They ranged all over, including some that led to the escape hatch. Kim nodded to herself.

"Whoever did it probably went back in through the escape hatch," she suggested. Ron's eyes flicked to the thick steel lid of the escape hatch. He took another look around, shook himself, and cut the lock. Kim brought her MP-5 up to cover the door as Ron took hold of the latch and pulled it open.

No horde of monkey ninjas came rushing out to meet them. Neither of them relaxed though. A slight, cool breeze was blowing out of the entryway, carrying with it the unmistakable scent of animals. "Smells like a pet store," Ron said, his nose wrinkling at the odor. Kim nodded once in agreement and tightened her grip on her gun. Ron unslung his own weapon, an automatic twelve gauge shotgun. After what had happened in Healey's lab, he and Kim had decided not to take any more chances. In addition to their guns, both carried knives and grenades, and Ron had a second gun, a pistol, tucked in a holster at the small of his back.

"I'll take point," Kim declared, turning on her helmet lamp and pushing past him. Ron fell in behind her. Beyond the door, cement steps dropped down into a narrow, unlit concrete tunnel that ran toward the silo, then doubled back to the shaft containing the stairs that led down to the LCC. Ron's nerves were jangling, and he knew Kim's were as well. The tunnel was a deathtrap by design: anyone trying to force entry into the silo complex had to come down it, and a single man could hold off any number of intruders as long as he had the ammo to do so. In his imagination Ron saw a monkey ninja waiting until he and Kim were halfway down the tunnel and tossing a grenade at them. There would be no where to run, no way to escape. He shuddered and forced the image from his mind. No such thing happened, however. The duo gained the corner, then the stairwell, without incident. Both levels of the LCC had been converted into bunk space for monkey ninjas. It reeked horribly, but was also deserted.

"Where the Hell are they?" Ron whispered in Kim's ear. She shrugged and nodded at the tunnel that led to the first silo. "Let's have a look down that way," she suggested.

They entered the silo at its second level, through a heavy steel blast door. Expanded metal formed a circular platform with a forty foot diameter hole in the center of if. Five similar platforms were fixed to the inside wall of the silo at intervals, one above them, and four below. Kim walked to the railing and looked down. They were perhaps fifty feet below the surface. The silo dropped at least a hundred more feet, she knew, but the lowest areas were hidden beneath dark, stagnant water that glinted in the beams of their helmet lamps. The elevator platform where the Atlas missile would have stood was just above the surface, a mere forty feet below her.

"No rocket here," Ron said, stating the obvious.

"And no way to get to the other silos," Kim added, pointing to the two other doors that opened onto the Level Two platform. Access between levels was by a single, narrow spiral staircase to their right. It wouldn't help them though. Of the five platforms that were still above water, each had large sections cut away. The smallest gap was twenty feet wide, too far for even a running jump. Kim was reaching for her grapple gun when Ron motioned for her to stop. "Here's how they get across," he said, pointing to a line strung between the halves of the Level One platform. It was almost invisible in the dark. "Clever," Kim acknowledged. She took hold of the line and put her full weight on it. It held easily. "Wait until I get across before you follow me," she ordered, then started across.

She was in the middle of the silo when lights blazed up. Monkey Fist was standing in one of the other doors, a smug expression on his face. A handful of monkey ninjas were with him, interposing themselves between Monkey Fist and Ron, who had brought his shotgun up instantly. Monkey Fist had a gun of some sort and was pointing it at Kim. "Put your weapon down, Mr. Stoppable," Fist commanded. Ron didn't move. "You might not hit me with the first shot, Mr. Stoppable, and if you don't...well, it's a long fall," he finished with a wicked grin. To emphasize the point, a monkey ninja drew a knife and held it to the rope Kim was hanging from. Slowly, wordlessly, Ron laid the shotgun on the platform.

"Very good," Fist sneered. "You've bought your friend a few more seconds of life." He aimed his gun at Kim's head a smiled coldly. "Any last words, Ms. Possible?" In a flash Kim realized that her situation was hopeless. She couldn't get her gun out before Fist shot her. Her only other immediate option was letting go of the rope, but a forty foot drop onto the steel elevator platform would break her legs, if she was lucky. She could try to land in the water, but she had no idea what hazards might be lurking out of sight beneath the surface. 'Time to play my ace,' she said to herself. She returned Fist's cold smile with one of her own.

"Yeah, I've got some last words, three of them: _deus ex machina_." As Monkey Fist's brow furrowed in puzzlement the Kimmunicator, responding to the voice command, dialed a pre-programmed number and sent a one word text message.

Kara was in study hall when she felt her cell phone vibrate. Opening it surreptitiously, she saw the words 'one new message'. She pushed a button and the words changed to the name of the sender: Kim Possible. A second push brought up the message itself: HELP! A quick glance showed that Mr. Barnhard, the teacher in charge of this study hall, was busy grading papers, and that no one else was looking her way.

Steven Barnhard looked up as the windows, indeed the whole school, vibrated as thunder rolled outside. His expression became puzzled. Bright sunlight flooded down from a cloudless blue sky. A quick excursion to the windows revealed no sign of what had caused the thunder. "Must have been a jet breaking the sound barrier," he decided. He returned to his grading, never noticing that Kara Kent was missing.

Monkey Fist knew the literal meaning of the words. Translated from the Greek they meant 'god from a machine'. He also knew the literary sense of the phrase: a clumsy plot device whereby the protagonists of a drama were saved at the last minute by an unexpected occurrence. Even as he began to ponder what Kim could possibly mean by that the whole complex shook, then shook again, and again. With the last quake the Level Two access door, a six by two foot, twelve inch thick piece of steel that weighed two and a half tons, flew clean off its hinges. It hurtled across the silo, slammed into the far wall, and plummeted into the depths with a deafening clatter. For his part, Monkey Fist found himself staring into the ice blue eyes of the Maid of Might as she hovered in front of him.

"Supergirl!" Monkey Fist exclaimed.

"Supergirl," Kim echoed triumphantly.

"Boo-yah!" Ron exalted.

Supergirl grinned mockingly at Monkey Fist. "I don't know what your game is, Fiske, but it's over," she declared. To her amazement Fiske sneered.

"Hardly." Before even Supergirl could react two things happened. Kim felt her limbs turn to lead. The line she was dangling from sagged, and she had to fight panic as she felt her grip failing. Simultaneously, the light in the silo changed from clear white to bright, bloody red.

Supergirl yelped in dismay and fell toward the elevator platform. She had just enough time before her powers faded entirely to catch Kim as she lost her grip, and brake their fall enough to avoid serious injury. From his perch on the Level Two platform Monkey Fist laughed down at them. "I was warned there was a possibility you'd turn up, Supergirl, so I took some precautions: artificial red sunlight and enhanced gravity." He glanced up to where Ron lay sprawled on his portion of the platform. "I'm afraid that platform isn't strong enough to support itself and you much longer, Mr. Stoppable, not at three times your normal weights. Alas, I won't be able to reclaim the mystical monkey power you stole from me. Pity. However, while your fall will certainly prove fatal, Ms. Possible and Supergirl aren't in any immediate danger. Fortunately, that is easily remedied." Monkey Fist said something to one of his monkey ninjas, and seconds later more water began flooding into the silo.

"F-f-f-fuck...you," Ron gasped, glaring balefully at Monkey Fist. Fist refused to take the bait. "Ta," he said cheerfully, as he departed, taking his monkey ninjas with him. Ron looked down. The water had already risen enough to start covering the elevator platform. Supergirl had Kim's head propped up, to keep it out of the rising water. Apparently that was all she could manage. "She must be hurt worse than I thought," Ron said to himself. That leaves it up to me I guess." He looked up. The artificial red sunlight was pouring down from a lamp suspended from the Level One platform. 'Monkey Fist didn't push any buttons to turn them on, just gave orders. Obviously it's remote controlled,' he decided. A plan of sorts popped into his head. 'Okay then, up I go...' Ron's face contorted into a scowl of determination. Muscles straining, he dragged himself up the spiral stair to the Level One platform, and pushed himself onto his feet. A quick glance at the lamp showed that it was, as he suspected, remote controlled. Remote controlled by computer, to be precise. A blue network cable sprouted from an open panel on the top of the lamp. 'Thank God there's an extra port,' Ron thought gratefully. He plugged his Kimmunicator into it and called Wade.

* * *

Monkey Fist watched from the auxiliary Launch Control Center as the elevator in silo two raised the rocket up to its launch position. He was sure that anyone nearby would be having three kinds of fits about seeing what appeared to be an ICBM rising out of an old missile silo. He smiled wickedly at the thought. 'When it takes off they'll probably think it's the end of the world.' He paused, bemused. "And in a way, they'll be right,' he conceded. 'Their world is about to end, and mine, about to begin.' The elevator stopped, and the blast doors at the top of the silo closed. Seconds later the rocket's first stage ignited with a roar that shook the whole complex, and it was gone, ascending into the heavens on a pillar of yellow flame and white smoke.

Kim heard the rocket take off. Her eyes met Supergirl's. Kara shook her head. "It's all I can do to keep your head above water Kim," she apologized. "All we can hope for is that someone else notices what's going on and steps in to help."

Kim nodded. The water was up to her chest now. She had maybe two more minutes until she drowned. It hurt to accept the fact. Dying was low on her list of priorities, but there seemed no way out of it this time 'I don't know what's worse,' she thought with bitter amusement, 'dying, or dying a virgin.' Her eyes rose to where Ron lay, and widened. He was gone! But where? A faint flicker of hope kindled in her mind.

Wade was multitasking. He had discovered recently that he was capable of performing two completely different complex tasks at once. Well, it wasn't really a discovery. He had actually grown into it, especially as he entered puberty. He occasionally entertained the notion that he was a mutant of sorts, at least as far as his brain was concerned. Whatever the case, he was creating a faked up video of Kim and Supergirl drowning, and feeding it into Monkey Fist's surveillance system, with his left hand, while probing the specifics of the silo trap with his right. It didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for. Unfortunately the water valves were beyond his reach, being strictly manually controlled. The sunlamp and gravity generator were a different matter. Working quickly, Wade set up a false data loop to make Monkey Fist think that the trap was still functioning as it ought to be. Then he adjusted the output frequency of the sunlamp and shut off the gravity generator.

Kara was weakening, Kim realized. Even without her superpowers she still came from a higher gravity world than Earth, so she was having an easier time than Kim was, but she was losing the fight. The arm supporting Kim's head was sagging, and water was lapping around Kim's mouth. She was thinking about giving up and just getting it over with when the blood red light that filled the silo shifted up through orange to yellow white, even as the massive weight pressing on her vanished. Almost at once the arm under her neck changed from soft rubber to unyielding steel. Kara stood up, dragging Kim to her feet at the same time. Kim felt almost weightless, more so when Kara slung Kim's left arm around her neck with her left hand, grabbed Kim's belt with her right, and rose up the center of the silo.

Ron had regained his feet by the time Kara set Kim down on the Level One catwalk. Before Kim could say a word Ron had his arms around her in a fierce embrace, which she gladly returned. There was no time to celebrate though.

"The rocket!" Kim exclaimed, breaking the embrace.

"I'll deal with that," Kara said. She was back in the center of the silo, basking in the bright light of the sunlamps.

"And Ron and I will deal with Monkey Fist."

After Ron retrieved his gun, Kara ferried them across the silo, then returned to her sunbathing. "I need a minute or two to recharge," she explained. Kim nodded in understanding. "We get started then," she said. "Come on Ron, let's go kick some monkey butt."


	11. Battle

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Kim and Ron paused outside the auxiliary launch control center. A quick peek through the still open blast door revealed Monkey Fist, standing with his back to them, surrounded by dozens of monkey ninjas. Fist was watching a large display that showed what seemed to be the flight path of his rocket as it headed north. Sidebars on the screen showed that both the U.S. and Russian militaries had gone to higher levels of alert.

'Not surprising,' Kim thought grimly. 'I hope the hotline between Washington and Moscow still works.'

Monkey Fist was hooting and gibbering, jumping around and waving his arms. He looked for all the world like an excited chimpanzee, and his followers seemed just as ecstatic. Kim glanced at Ron. He met her gaze, and she could see in his expression that he was thinking the exact same thing she was. He nodded once. Kim stepped forward.

"Care to translate that into a civilized language Fiske?" she sneered.

The mad Englishman whirled. "Kim Possible!" he shrieked. "How...?" Even as he spoke, monkey ninjas moved to form a screen between their master and the intruders.

"With a little help from my friends," Kim provided, still sneering.

Fiske composed himself, his face growing cold and still. "No matter. There's nothing you or your tech geek friend can do to stop my rocket, not now, and soon the mind control ray aboard my satellite will make me ruler of the world!"

"True," Kim agreed pleasantly. "There's nothing _we_ can do," she said, gesturing at herself and Ron. "But I'm sure Supergirl can manage it." The words had no sooner left her mouth when the ground trembled and a loud crash echoed through the tunnels. Kim suspected at once that Kara had been listening to them, and chose to time her departure for maximum dramatic effect. "I think that was her leaving," she added, a cloyingly sweet smile on her lips.

Monkey Fist smiled back; a cold, condescending smile. "She'll find I'm well prepared for her interference, thanks to _my_ friends."

"You mean Darkseid? We know all about your little alliance and believe me, mind control ray or no, Supergirl can handle whatever tricks you've got up your sleeve."

"We'll see," Fiske allowed. "In the meantime, I'll correct a previous mistake. No more leaving you alone in a deathtrap; I'll kill you myself, and cut your hearts out to make sure you're dead."

"Bring it on, freak," Kim challenged, waving him forward as she assumed a fighting stance. Before Monkey Fist could accept, Ron stepped up and stuck and arm in front of Kim. "No," he said quietly, "you'll fight me." Ron set his shotgun aside. "Just you and me, Fiske. _Mano a monkey_."

Monkey Fist bared his teeth in a savage grin. "You _do_ realize that 'mano a mano' doesn't mean 'man to man' but 'hand to hand', don't you?"

"Whatever," Ron growled. "Get over here and fight, you diseased loony."

With a howl of rage Monkey Fist launched himself at Ron, who sprang forward to meet him. Kim watched, awe and worry competing for prominence in her thoughts. The monkey ninjas had drawn back to the perimeter of the chamber and were watching in utter silence. Almost faster than the eye could follow, the combatants kicked, punched, blocked, leapt and dodged. Kim knew Ron had been dabbling in a couple of martial arts, and working out with a Marine hand to hand combat instructor on loan to Global Justice, but she had no idea he'd made so much progress. But as good as he was, Fiske seemed to have the edge. True, Ron had the advantages of height, reach, mass and strength, but Fiske was _fast_, blindingly fast. The would be monkey master landed three blows for every one of Ron's that connected. As the fight progressed it became clear to Kim that the outcome would depend on whether Ron's ability to take damage would outlast Monkey Fist's ability to inflict it.

* * *

Kara broke the sound barrier ten seconds after she crashed through the doors covering the silo. She was already a mile up and gaining velocity with every passing second. When the last vestiges of blue were gone from the sky she was fifty miles up, a hundred miles downrange, and moving over eighty-four hundred miles per hour. Two minutes had elapsed. Kara followed the rocket's exhaust trail with her telescopic vision. The rocket, which had shed its first and second stages, was a thousand miles ahead of her, and one hundred miles higher. It was still accelerating, albeit at a much lower rate, and still climbing. She plucked a breather mask from her belt. She didn't need the mask for the air it provided; she could hold her breath for several hours. Unfortunately, sound didn't carry well in a vacuum, and she needed to use her Justice League communicator.

"Watchtower, this is Supergirl. I have a situation here."

"I'd say you do," the husky voice of J'onn J'onzz, the Martian Manhunter, crackled in her ears. "The Americans and Russians are a bit excited."

"I can imagine," Kara grinned wryly. "Can you patch me through to them?"

"Affirmative, switching now."

There was a hiss of static, then a new voice spoke to her. "Supergirl?"

"Yes."

"I'm General Thomas Greentree, C-in-C NORAD. What's going on?"

She explained quickly. Ahead, Monkey Fist's rocket was passing over Canada's Great Slave Lake.

"Understood," General Greentree said when she finished. "We're going to try to knock it down. The ABM's are launching from Alaska now." Kara glanced to the northwest. From a base near Prudhoe Bay, three refurbished Minuteman I missiles were ascending into the Arctic sky. X-ray vision showed that each of them was carrying an x-ray laser warhead. Doing the math in her head, Kara estimated that the American missiles would intercept Monkey Fist's toy over Banks Island in the Beaufort Sea. The geometry was iffy even then, and the American's wouldn't get a second shot. 'I hope three are enough,' she wished.

For her part Kara was gaining ground. The range had fallen to eight hundred miles. The third stage of the rocket had burned out, released the satellite, and fallen away. The satellite itself was passing over the wrinkled expanse of Admunsen Gulf. Ahead loomed Banks Island. Kara could just make out the town of Sachs Harbor on the southwest coast of the large island. "I hope no-one is looking up," she murmured. Her eyes were stabbed by the harsh white glare of a trio of nuclear explosions. X-ray lasers, generated by the power of the exploding nukes, lashed Monkey Fist's satellite. And did nothing. The satellite disappeared inside a brightly glowing sphere, reemerging as the glow faded. Kara swore. "It's got a force field. The satellite is still intact." Eyes narrowing, she sent a blast of heat vision ahead. The glowing sphere returned, but not as bright as before.

General Greentree shared her sentiments. "We've shot our bolt," he said. "The Russians will have the next crack at it, unless you..."

"Negative. My heat vision is too weak. I'll have to do this the old fashioned way, and we'll be over the pole and heading south by the time I catch up with it."

"Very well. I'll switch you over to Russian Air Defense."

* * *

Ron and Monkey Fist were drenched in sweat, and both men showed signs of fatigue, not surprising since they'd been at it nonstop for several minutes. Neither seemed able to gain the upper hand, but then, by luck or skill, Monkey Fist got past Ron's guard. Ron's head snapped sideways and blood sprayed from his nose. Kim started to cry out in dismay, but changed it to a cheer when Ron, turning with the blow, caught Fiske in the chest with a kick that sent him flying. Breathing heavily, Ron turned to face his foe again, pausing only to wipe the sweat from his face.

"This has gone far enough," Monkey Fist growled. He rose from were he had fallen, a sword in his hands.

"Cheater!" Ron cried.

"Villain!" Monkey Fist snapped.

Ron plucked his knife from its sheath and threw it. Monkey Fist swatted it aside and leapt at Ron. Ron's dodge was only partially successful. Fist's blade swung in a glittering arc. Ron yelped in pain as blood spurted from his forearm. He staggered back, and Monkey Fist gathered himself for another leap. He never made it. As he prepared to spring, Kim slammed into him, knocking him off balance. Fist swung blindly. The flat of the blade smacked Kim in the head, stunning her and sending her sprawling. With a triumphant howl Monkey Fist raised the sword over his head. "DDDiiiieee!" he bellowed.

BOOM!

The blast reverberated in the small space. Monkey Fist gaped at the red stain spreading across his chest. The sword slid from his hands. Staggering backwards, his fingers clutched at his chest, as if his twitching digits could turn the mass of shredded goo that had been his heart into a functional organ again. Ron was leaning against the wall, holding his still smoking shotgun. "You first," he said weakly.

Monkey Fist fell backward and lay still. Monkey ninjas, suddenly bereft of leadership, turned toward Ron. "Get out of here" he snapped. As one the monkeys turned and fled. Ron sagged to the floor. Putting down the gun he clamped a hand over the bone deep cut on his arm. He grinned feebly at Kim. "Little help here, K.P?"

* * *

Kara caught up with the satellite just north of Severnaya Zemlya, the islands that were Russia's northernmost territory. Ironically, they marked the boundary between the Arctic Ocean and the Kara Sea. Six Russian ABM's were already on their way. Fitted with twenty megaton warheads, they would try to accomplish with brute force what the Americans had failed to manage with finesse. 'And succeed where I failed, too,' she admitted. The shield protecting the satellite had proved stronger than she could defeat. She had pushed it near its limit, perhaps, and might have battered it down with enough time, but there were populated areas ahead, and no time for pride.

Increased heat output from the satellite's generator warned her that it was about to fire. She watched curiously as a fan shaped spray of energy reached down. It looked as if the ray would sweep a path about fifty miles wide and...

Kara's eyes widened. Far below, the beam swept over seabirds, shallow swimming fish, even a few breaching whales. And killed them all. "Death ray!" Trust Darkseid to betray even a willing ally. Kara rolled on her back and dove beneath the killer satellite. She flew into the beam, taking it square in the chest but blocking it entirely.

As a child on Argo, Kara had participated in water fights. Once, she and her friends had gone to a firefighter's picnic where they learned what it was like to be hit by the stream from a big hose. The death ray was worse. It hammered at her relentlessly. She felt like she couldn't breathe, and had to fight rising panic and the urge to gasp for air. She looked ahead. The Russian warheads were close. "Any second now..." Kara squeezed her eyes shut. Even through her invulnerable eyelids the flash was blinding.


	12. A Special Visitor

Kim Possible and all related characters and indicia are owned by the Disney Corporation. Supergirl and all related characters and indicia are owned by DC Comics/Warner Bros. This work of fan fiction is written for pleasure, not profit.

Chloe Sullivan walked into Room 211 of the Smallville Medical Center without knocking. Ron Stoppable was lying in the room's single bed, his eyes closed, his left arm heavily bandaged and strapped across his chest. Kim Possible, red eyed and looking more than a bit haggard, sat beside him, holding his right hand and gently running her fingers through his hair. Chloe stopped at the foot of the bed. Kim looked up with a tired smile, and Chloe greeted her with a wink.

"How are you, Kim?"

"Just a cut on the side of my head, and a few bruises," Kim said, one hand going to her blood matted hair.

Chloe looked around. "Where's Kara? I thought you said she was here."

"I am," Kara Kent said as she walked into the room carrying a dripping pitcher. "Your ice water," she announced to Ron, refilling his glass.

Chloe gave Ron a stern look. "Milk it much?" she demanded.

Ron opened one eye and grinned at her. "Wouldn't you?"

Chloe smiled. "How are you feeling?"

"Like the Mad Dogs offensive line's been using me as a tackling dummy," Ron said, not quite able to keep the pain out of his voice. "Fortunately, the doctors introduced me to Mr. Morphine here, and he's taken the edge off it, at least." He gestured at the morphine pump standing next to his bed.

Chloe nodded in silent understanding. She'd been a guest at the Medical Center more than once in her younger days. She glanced at Kara. "You look like a lobster," she accused, noting the teenager's bright pink skin. "What happened?"

"Sunburn," Kara said simply.

Chloe gave her a skeptical look. "I didn't think that was possible."

Kara looked around, then said, "Well, when people ask how it happened I can't say, 'Oh, I was engulfed by six hydrogen fireballs.'" Chloe had to agree that Kara had a point. The enormous explosion that had blotted Monkey Fist's satellite out of the sky had also left Kara with more color than she'd had in years, since before the destruction of Krypton and the subsequent devastation of Argo, at least. Chloe knew Kara loved to sunbathe, and also that she never tanned at all, well, not on Earth. They'd had to invent a story about Kara having sensitive skin, and Kara made a habit of wearing high SPF sunblock year 'round. "So," Kara went on, "I went outside without my sunscreen and got a little burned."

Chloe nodded again. "Well," she said, addressing herself to Kim and Ron, "Your adventure has made the international news. The parking lot is full of media satellite trucks, and more are coming all the time. I was just speaking with some of them, and they all want to know when they can interview you." Kim heaved a sigh, and Ron closed his eyes. "Can't they wait a day?" he groused. 

"Sure they could," Chloe said, a cynical smile on her lips, "That way they could broadcast twenty-four hours of rumor and innuendo uncluttered by facts." She chuckled at the look on their faces. "Seriously though, I'd be happy to serve as a go between, if you want to issue a statement."

"Don't they have enough of those already?"

"Oh, they have statements from just about everybody, all right: the U.S. and Russian militaries, the feds, the police and Global Justice. Even Supergirl put out a statement, through the Justice League."

Kim gave Kara a look. The blonde shrugged. "I'd rather not be interviewed, at least not on TV. But I had to say something. After all, the people have a right to know what's going on the world."

Kim sighed again. "I suppose so," she agreed. "Well, I guess I can go out and talk to them, unless you don't mind them coming in here?" she said to Ron.

Ron shrugged. "As long as we can clean up first. You're a mess," he said, teasing gently. Kim just smiled.

"You'll probably want to leave before then," Chloe said, looking at Kara. "I doubt you want Kara Kent's picture splashed all over the world either."

Kara grinned in agreement. "You're right, but I've arranged a distraction. No one out there will be paying any attention to me."

"What kind of distraction?"

Kara chuckled. "You'll find out in a minute." She turned to Kim and Ron "Your folks are here, by the way."

Ron looked at her blankly. "My...our parents?"

"Yep. They'll be in shortly, but first, my distraction wants to meet you." Kara was grinning from ear to ear now. Footsteps sounded in the door. Kim and Ron turned to look. Ron's jaw dropped. Kim's eyes grew wide as saucers.

"Kim Possible and Ron Stoppable," the new arrival said with a friendly smile. "Supergirl has told me a lot about you." He glanced at Kara, his eyes twinkling. Kara grinned but said nothing. "Hello Chloe, you're looking well." Chloe blushed brightly. "You too, Cl...Superman," she stammered.

Superman turned his attention to Kim and Ron. Kim was glad she was sitting down. Her knees had gone weak, and she doubted she'd be able to stand up. He stood for a moment, just looking at them, like he was studying them, or reading them. He nodded approvingly. "You two rest up," he commanded. "The world needs all the heroes it can get, and you two have the makings of great ones." Kim tried to reply, but couldn't make any words come out. Ron, she saw, was in a similar fix. Superman smiled tolerantly. "Your parents are waiting outside, and I won't keep them any longer," he said. "Take care," he added, and was gone. He was no sooner out of sight than the room filled with a quartet of anxious parents, a pair of jealous brothers, and a half dozen demands for explanations.

* * *

Kara slipped out of the room unnoticed, and exited the hospital by a back door. There was a park across the street. A dark haired, bespectacled man sat on a bench reading a newspaper. Kara took a seat beside him. "Well," she asked, "What do you think of them?"

Clark Kent gave his 'cousin' a frank look. "I think we'll be seeing a lot of them in the coming years," he said.

Kara looked at the hospital and smiled. "I think so too."


End file.
